


The Unbroken Threads

by the_tilly



Series: Dance with the Devil [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe traveller, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Neville Longbottom, BAMF Ron Weasley, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mentor Tom Riddle, Multi, Professor Tom Riddle, Tom and Voldemort are different people, Torture Mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 102,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tilly/pseuds/the_tilly
Summary: Canon AU: This story continues where The Deceptive Waltz left off. War threatens to tear everyone apart, and there have already been so many losses. With Hogwarts being threatened, Voldemort seemingly unchallenged, and the Ministry in shambles, Harry must find a way. Luckily, he has a powerful ally at his side. Alternative Universe traveler in Canon story. Canon Typical violence





	1. Number Four Privet Drive

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of my series named ‘Dance with the Devil’. The first part is called ‘The Deceptive Waltz’. In order to understand everything in this story you will want to start there before going forward. For those that are just interested in this section of the series, here is a summary of the first part:  
> Tom Riddle from another universe came into canon end of Harry’s second year. Dumbledore has known about him, and has helped him hide since then. Year five, Dumbledore asked Riddle to teach Transfigurations class while McGonagall did work for the Order. Harry found out who he was, but through a lot of meetings, and Riddle’s assistance at the battle at the Ministry, Harry trusts him. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape are the only people who know who Riddle is, who is under the guise of ‘Magnus R. Thomason’, a Wandless Wizard (Since his wand is infamous, he does not display it, pretending to not need it). Dumbledore and Sirius died at the Ministry at the end of year Five. Riddle, through his over-protective nature, has requested to be legal guardian of Harry, which Harry agreed to… there was a lot of trust building in the first series… like Riddle torturing Umbridge and wiping her memory of it so she wouldn’t put Harry in detention anymore… it wasn’t as bad as that sounded… sort of… and our story picks up one week after Harry returns to his Aunt’s house, awaiting Riddle to finalize the paperwork to make him Guardian of Harry Potter.  
> Also, assume unless stated above, everything that happened in book five canon happened in my story. I will endeavor to keep those who want to start here in the loop, but feel free to ask questions. I will answer them as soon as possible.

Privet Drive was quiet as usual on a warm summer’s day, like every summer before it. Harry was stuck inside, flipping through several issues of _The Daily Prophet_ , while Hedwig, his snowy owl slept in her cage. Harry read numerous articles, almost tearing a section off as he turned the page, pinching his lips. The reports of attacks were increasing every day in the Wizarding World, and when Harry had the rare opportunity to sit out under the window in the garden, he could hear his Uncle Vernon watching the news. Like the year before, Harry spent this one glued to every bit of news he could find while awaiting his time.

Dumbledore and Sirius had died in the Ministry fight at the end of his fifth year, causing an enormous uproar in the community. Well, Dumbledore’s death had, but Harry was just as shaken by the death of his Godfather. Harry worried that Hogwarts might close, and every time he saw another article that mentioned Dumbledore being dead with no firm replacement for the school, it made him want to rip the paper to shreds.

On one hand, Harry could understand the trouble of finding a Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts now, with Voldemort back at full power. It was reasonable that any witch or wizard would hesitate to put themselves forward to protect an entire school from harm, but they wouldn’t be alone. When Harry had spoken to Dumbledore’s Portrait, he had said the Order of the Phoenix would be protecting the school and Riddle had said he would, even if he wasn’t allowed back. Fudge had purposed having a group of Aurors on Hogwarts grounds the whole year while students were there, but Harry doubted they would be able to do much against Voldemort.  

Harry closed his eyes, mentally counting down the days in his head since he arrived back at his Aunt and Uncle’s house. Today makes a full week he had been wallowing at Privet Drive, though with the slow days, it’s felt a whole lot longer.

Harry had been itching to do something. Every attack in the paper only made his resolve stronger. He wanted to take this year to fight against Voldemort, but he worried about his under-aged status. His wand would still be watched by the Ministry until he turned seventeen, and if the Dark Lord was as powerful as Harry thought, he would be able to track Harry through the Ministry’s protections. The only thing that gave him hope was he knew he had Tom Riddle on his side.

He had to admit when he first heard Tom’s tale of travelling from another universe, Harry didn’t quite believe him. After being around him for a year, and seeing his fight Bellatrix without a wand in the Ministry just a few weeks ago, convinced Harry. Ron and Hermione also knew, and them believing the story made Harry feel more secure in decision. The only thing that still bothered Harry was finding out what Riddle did to Umbridge. He had a very good idea, but now that Harry had some time to think on it, he wasn’t so sure it was the best way to handle her.

The sun was setting and Harry moved to close the curtains to block out the light, when he glanced down to see a figure walking down the road. Harry paused, and parted the curtains a little more to watch. It wasn’t that unusual to see some people walking down the road, especially at this time of the day, but Harry was sure none of them looked like this. The man had broad shoulders, tall and lithe with a suit that looked like it came out of the 1940’s complete with a fedora.

As though the figure knew he was being watched, he turned his head up towards the second story window, and his eyes found Harry in the window.  

Harry grinned at the dark-haired man who approached the front door of the house. Harry didn’t bother pulling the curtains, and left the room, thundering down the stairs as he went. Petunia practically screeched at him for it, but Harry didn’t care, as he pulled open the front door just as the bell rang.

Standing in a two-piece navy blue suit with white chalk strips, that was clearly tailored for the handsome man wearing it, was Tom Riddle. His blue eyes were slightly widened in surprise, his hands still raised at the buzzer, but a smile slowly warmed on his face at the sight of Harry.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” said Tom in his silky voice.

Before Harry could even respond, Uncle Vernon had muscled his way into the entry way, muttering angrily under his breath, pushing Harry aside to see who was at the door. His great stature almost squishing Harry into the wall in order to let him through.

“We don’t want anything you’re selling,” Vernon said, making a grab for the door.

“He’s not here to sell anything,” Harry snapped, his foot blocking the door from being shut, trying to get around his large Uncle. “He’s Tom Riddle, and he’s a teacher at my school.”

The color drained from Vernon’s face, and Petunia, who Harry didn’t even know was coming up the hall, had hissed between her teeth. Vernon stood stalk still in the doorway for a moment, looking Riddle up and down with a furrowed brow, as though wondering why someone who looked so normal would ever be caught up in ‘all that magic non-sense’. Aunt Petunia braced herself up against the wall, as though the shock of seeing a wizard was too much for her sensibilities.

“May I come in?” asked Riddle, tilting his chin up, with a polite smile on his face.

“No!” Vernon shouted, coming back to his sense, his face already growing red. He stuck his thick finger, wagging it near Riddle. “We already got one, we don’t need a second.”

“Vernon, the neighbors,” whispered Petunia, already craning her neck to see past her husband to check if anyone was paying attention. Harry doubted it as only Petunia was that nosy. Harry moved his foot, now barely keeping his spot by the entry way with his Aunt and Uncle now crammed into it.

“I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of being… _normal_ … during a brief chat I must have with you, and Mrs. Dursley, especially,” said Riddle, bowing his head ever so slightly, and sweeping the fedora off his head. Harry thought Riddle was trying to look dashing, and felt he may have pulled it off. He also wanted to tell Riddle he was wasting his time on the Durselys as they weren’t worth the effort.

As though to prove Harry correct, Vernon’s mustache twitched, like he wanted to say something nasty but was debating on if he could attack Riddle first before Riddle could pull out a wand. His eyes darting to Riddle’s hands, which were clutching at his fedora.  

“He can do wandless magic and he’s probably the most powerful wizard in the world, you should just let him,” said Harry, then released a sigh.  

“I thought the old man, what’s he called, what’s his name—Rumbly—Bumble—or something other—was the most powerful of your lot,” asked Vernon, his beady eyes looking between Harry and Riddle, but at least he wasn’t shouting anymore.

“He was,” Harry all but whispered. 

“Let him in, Vernon! We don’t need people talking,” Petunia reasoned, wringing her apron. She turned on her heel back into the kitchen area, probably to try to convince herself this wasn’t happening.

Vernon’s eyes narrowed at Riddle, but he pushed Harry down the hall and moved aside. Harry glared at his Uncle, before waving Riddle in, who stepped into the house looking far too expensive to be stood in the entry way to number four Privet Drive. Vernon seemed to think so too, as he shut the door behind Riddle, eyeing the suit, which even Harry could tell was very nice, even if it looked like something out of an old movie.

“I see you can dress like us,” Vernon said, still blocking Riddle from going any further into the house with his sheer bulk. “But I don’t want any funny business in this household.”

“I was raised like a Muggle until my mother passed away,” Riddle said evenly, looking around the house with a blank look on his face. Before Vernon could say anything, “I’m quite adept at both magical and non-magical living, having a fortune for both certainly helps.”

“You’re rich?” asked Vernon, now observing Riddle with a conflicted expression. There were very few things Vernon loved more than being absolutely normal, and having money was one of them. Harry could practically see the thoughts swirling in his Uncle’s head, wondering if Riddle would be someone to get to know for the sake of the money, versus what Vernon considered ‘delinquent behavior’ with all that ‘wand waving non-sense’.

“Oh, yes, quite rich,” said Riddle, absently as he finished looking over the entryway. He practically shouldered past a stunned Vernon. “This way to the kitchen I presume?” and without waiting for a reply, went into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia had just about finished preparing for dinner.

Vernon looked over at Harry, who pretended not to know what the raised eyebrows were for. Harry honestly didn’t know if Riddle was rich or not, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell Vernon anything about it either way. He followed Riddle into the kitchen just as Dudley came in the back door of the house, and paused when he saw a stranger sitting at the table.

“Who are you?” Dudley asked rudely, as Petunia all but flew to his side. She wrapped an arm around Dudley, smoothing his limp blonde hair with her hand.

“We’ve got company from Harry’s school here, so why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll call you down when everything’s finish?” she asked in a sweet voice that made Harry want to gag.

Dudley, now knowing the man sat at the kitchen table was a wizard, gaped in astonishment and fear. His large arms were trembling, and his knees were probably close to knocking each other if he didn’t have so much bulk to get through to do so. Harry was sure Dudley was remembering the last time he ran into a wizard, Hagrid on Harry’s eleventh birthday, where a pig tail was magically produced on Dudley’s backside.

Harry had to duck his face to prevent the smile from showing to his relatives, who would probably smack him for it. Harry quickly moved over to the table when Vernon came into the room. Harry hovered near Riddle, who looked like nothing was abnormal about this meeting, a pleasant smile on his face.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted your dinner, but this won’t take long at all,” Riddle began, shuffling inside of his jacket. Vernon and Petunia tensed as though he might draw a weapon, instead, pulled out some parchment papers. Dudley let out a small whimper, stood frozen in his spot.

“What are those?” Vernon questioned, narrowing his tiny eyes. “Don’t tell me the boy has been expelled.”

“No, nothing like that,” answered Riddle, and if he was shocked that Harry’s relatives would instantly jump to that conclusion, he didn’t show it. Instead, he turned the papers towards Petunia, who was still trying to soothe Dudley. “It is my wish that you would sign these.”

“We aren’t signing anything!” exclaimed Vernon, already red in the cheeks.

“These are papers saying you wish to turn over your legal guardianship of Harry, to me,” explained Riddle as though he wasn’t just yelled at. Riddle folded his hands together, his head tilted up to look at the three stunned Durselys, with is fedora resting next to the papers.

Harry looked up at his Aunt and Uncle, his heart fluttering in his chest. He knew that Riddle was going to come here and ask his Aunt to sign, but he didn’t think it would happen so quickly. He also assumed Petunia would immediately sign it without a second thought, instead of standing frozen by her husband’s side.  

“Well,” Vernon started, a horrible smile appearing under his mustache. He marched right up to the table, looking around for a pen. “Where do we sign?”

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm in wanting to forfeit your rights to your nephew,” Riddle started with a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, appreciate it. “Per the Ministry, Mrs. Dursley is the one with proper guardianship. I only need her signature.”

“Petunia, did you hear that? We can get rid of the boy from our house for good!” Vernon cheered, not noticing how pale Petunia was growing over this news. Dudley also seemed to be confused, frowning at his dad, and looking over at his mom. Vernon continued, “No more owls, no more letters that come in here barking at us, no more nonsense!”

Riddle and Petunia seemed to be eyeing each other. Riddle, sitting comfortably in a chair with his hands folded, a slightly smile, and relaxed shoulders; Petunia, standing stiff between her son and husband, brows furrowed.

It took Vernon a few more seconds before he realized Petunia wasn’t moving to sign the papers on the table. He turned to glance at his wife, with his smiling dropping and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Petunia dear,” he started, talking slowly as though she were a child. “You just need to sign, and we can say good-bye to your nephew for good.”  He looked over at Riddle. “You’re taking him forever, right?”

“Right.”

“See?” Vernon continued, grabbing Petunia’s thin wrist, and tugging her gently forward. “We can have this over with.”

Much to Harry’s surprise, Petunia snatched her hand away from a shocked Vernon, her eyes never leaving Riddle’s. She squared her bony shoulders. “What happens if I sign?”

“Well, I become his legal guardian. I will have him pack, and leave this house for good,” Riddle answered, tilting his head. There was a moment when they just looked at each other, before Riddle continued in a low voice, “But, you are wondering what happens to the protection on the house if I take him now, aren’t you?”

Petunia froze, as though feeling guilty she was caught in what concerned her. She twisted her hands together, looking over at Vernon who was now gapping, and then Dudley who was quivering, before turning back to Riddle.

“Dumbledore said I had to keep him safe until he was an adult,” Petunia began and Harry felt a twinge of pain run through his heart at the mention of Dumbledore, but was interested to hear where this was going. Petunia never said anything about magic! Let alone talk about any discussions she had with Dumbledore. “In his letter, he said this house was protected as long as _he_ lived here.”

“That is why Harry returned this summer,” Riddle began, sitting back in the chair now and a slightly twitch in his jaw. “The protection that was invoked by Albus when he left Harry here fifteen years ago will continue for another year on this house, and if we fail in destroying Voldemort in that time, I will make sure you are notified so your family may make arrangements to move to a safe location. Until that time, you and your family are protected.”

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat, turning red, and Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed. Dudley was turning his head to look between his parents, as though he was still trying to work out exactly what was going on.

“Did you have any other concerns?” asked Riddle, still smiling as though he didn’t just tell the Dursley’s Harry and he were going to war against a dark wizard for the next year and they may have to run from said dark wizard if they didn’t kill him in time. Harry wanted to ask Petunia when she had ever spoken to Dumbledore before, but kept quiet. Riddle seemed to have the Dursleys about to give in to signing over their rights to Harry, something he wanted more than satisfying his curiosity.  

 “And where is he? Why isn’t he explaining this?” asked Petunia, almost hissing.

“Albus died in a battle last month with Lord Voldemort,” Riddle answered simply, his face not even twitching at the name, but Harry felt a prickle in his scar, and a deep sorrow that was not his own.

“Who’s ‘Albus’?” asked Vernon, suddenly out of his shock. His beady eyes going from Petunia’s pale form, to Harry who looked down, and then to Riddle. “What kind of name is that?”

“Albus is Dumbledore’s first name,” Riddle snipped almost out the corner of his mouth, now leaning back in towards Petunia, as though hoping he could block out Vernon.  “As you can see, things are in a bit of chaos right now. Harry needs protection, and for me to do that, I need to be his guardian. That way I can care for him, without needing outside approval.”

“See Petunia?” Vernon said, his hands coming up to rest on Petunia’s shoulders. He appeared to be more concerned with Harry being gone for good, over Riddle being rude to him. “He cares for the boy, and we keep the protection. It’s all good, right?”

Petunia, much to Vernon and Harry’s delight, strode up to the table. Harry was sure this was going to be it. Aunt Petunia would sign the paperwork, Harry could run upstairs to grab his trunk, and Hedwig, and he would be on his way out of here for good. He was already imagining the feeling of being able to see number four behind him and know he was never coming back, when Dudley started to speak.

“You promise to keep him safe?” Dudley asked Riddle, much to the shock of every person in the room. If Harry didn’t see Dudley’s lips move, he might not have believed it. Petunia looked like she wanted to rush over to her son and hug him for just suggesting someone take care of Harry. Harry hoped Petunia could hear the sound of his eyes rolling.

“I promise,” Riddle said slowly, as though he couldn’t believe he was asked anything by Dudley either. Riddle pulled out a quill from his coat, placing it next to the papers.

Petunia nodded, grabbing it, and finally signing her name on the papers. Riddle waved his hands over them and instantly they vanished with a _POP_. The Dursley’s jumped at the show of magic in their house, but Riddle didn’t appear to have even notice their reaction, instead he stood up, and turned to Harry.

“Are you packed?” he asked.

“Never unpacked,” Harry answered, a grin starting to spread on his face. Harry turned and went bounding up the stairs to grab his trunk, and Hedwig. It only took him a minute or two to have everything ready, as he wasn’t lying when he told Riddle he didn’t unpack at all. Instead, he had been packing a few other things away, knowing that he was never coming back to Privet Drive. Hedwig made a few noises on complaint over Harry’s hurried treatment of her in order to get down stairs faster. Harry cooed at her, promising to buy her a treat at his first chance for the rough treatment.

When he made it back downstairs he was greeted by the sight of Riddle, and the Dursleys in the entryway of the house. Petunia, and Dudley were gathered together in the doorway to the kitchen, while Vernon was standing between them and Riddle. Riddle had his hands behind his back, and was rocking back and forth on his heels while he waited.

“I’m ready,” Harry announced, making it down to the landing.

“Very good, then let’s be on our way,” Riddle said, flipping his fedora onto his head. He nodded towards Vernon, who sneered, then to Petunia. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I detest lying. Instead, I shall just bid you farewell.”

Vernon’s face slowly started to turn impressive colors, but Petunia placed a bony hand on his shoulder, and shook her head. He clenched his jaw shut, his ears now looking like eggplants attached to the side of his face, as he held in his nasty comments.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected from his last walk out of Privet Drive, but Dudley coming up to him and shaking his hand wasn’t one of them. Petunia practically burst into tears, proud that Dudley dared to do something that wasn’t mean for once, while Vernon looked like he was still angry at Riddle for his comments. After Dudley stepped away from Harry, Vernon did look like he wanted to shake Harry’s hand as well, but thought better of it, instead just telling him bye. The biggest shock actually came from his Aunt of all people.

Petunia, when she was finished with cuddling on Dudley, came over to Harry, and eyed him. Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, feeling like he was under McGonagall’s gaze for a moment.

“Well good-bye then,” she said briskly, and she looked at Riddle once more as though she wanted to say something, before snapping her mouth shut then returning to Dudley’s side.

“Bye,” Harry responded, grabbing his trunk.

The sun had just set when Harry and Riddle walked out the door. The orange glow from the streetlights were shining brightly now against the dark sky. The neighborhood was fairly quiet with distant echoes of evening shows being played from the next-door neighbor’s house, a dog barking with its owner yelling at it, and a few kids around the corner walking down the sidewalk from the park.

“Now Harry,” Riddle started, his arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders. Harry noticed the change of Riddle calling him by his first name. “We should have the element of surprise since no one would think you would be leaving your Aunt’s and Uncle’s house this early, but stay close to me until we reach safety, alright?”

“Got it,” Harry answered, his earlier happiness at leaving privet drive now sinking in his stomach as reality hit him. Before he could ask if he needed his wand out, which was currently tucked into his pocket, Riddle waved his hand over Hedwig and Harry’s trunk, both vanishing.

“I’ve sent them ahead,” Riddle said, walking them towards the street. “We need to move outside the protection before we can disapparate – yes we’re traveling that way—and make our way to Hogwarts.”

“We’re going to Hogwarts?” asked Harry, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s never been to Hogwarts during the summer break.

“It’s the safest spot for right now while we work out a few things, but the Weasley family has offered to have you over there for a few weeks as well, until September,” Riddle continued, his eyes occasionally darting around the neighborhood, as though looking for someone. “I also figured it might be nice to spend your birthday with your friends.”

 “That’ll be great,” Harry said with a smile. It was rare he could spend much of his summer around his friends, and especially for his birthday would be grand. When Riddle didn’t share his smile, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a few things to tell you before we leave,” Riddle started, stopping them on the corner of Privet Drive. Harry could see the lights on number four from here, and the curtains were drawn but not shut completely. Harry had little doubt Petunia was probably craning her neck from the kitchen window trying to see if they were really going. “Minerva… Professor McGonagall, isn’t exactly happy about me taking you from here.”

“Why not?”

“She’s worried Death Eaters are waiting just outside the protection for you to try to leave, and there should be a whole group coming to collect you, instead of just me,” Riddle answered, looking up into the night sky. Harry glanced up, turning his head but seeing nothing but sky and stars. “And it seems her concern about the Death Eaters was correct.”

“Where are they?” asked Harry, squinting, but still not seeing them. He tensed and grabbed his wand from his pocket. Riddle turned to him, seeing the wand but not telling him to put it away; Instead, he lifted his hand, and pointed. Harry peered after it, trying to spot any figures in the sky but failing.

“Look for the stars fading from view, then returning,” whispered Riddle close to his ear.

Harry took a few seconds, concentrating on watching the stars. Suddenly, a few clustered together, disappeared leaving an empty spot as though darkness was sweeping over them. Harry narrowed his eyes, and a moment later they were back again like something had passed in front of the stars, blocking them from view. He gasped, darting to look at the other areas. Now that he knew what to look for, Harry could tell there were numerous Death Eaters just a few kilometers away in the sky, most likely on brooms, circling the area.

“They can’t see us while we’re in the area of protection, but they will spot us the moment we leave,” explained Riddle, straightening. “We have to get out of the barrier before I can disapparate us to Hogsmeade, where a few Order members are waiting for us. We’ll escort you to Hogwarts from there, and then discuss our plans.”

Harry nodded, but he felt his heart thundering in his chest at the thought of so many Death Eaters surrounding them. Riddle’s arm tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Harry hissed as his scar prickled in pain, but didn’t pull away.

“I’ll keep you safe Harry,” Riddle said, his grip firm. “I promised.”

“What if Voldemort is also waiting out there?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“Then, he’ll learn the hard way I don’t fight fair,” said Riddle, cocking an eyebrow slightly. Harry huffed a laugh at his display despite the sick feeling in his stomach, Riddle’s lips twitched into a smile, before looking back up at the sky. “If we’re clever, we’ll be out of here before they all figure out what’s happening.”

Harry gripped his wand tightly, glad that Riddle had already transported Hedwig to safety, and was by his side. He gritted his teeth, preparing to fight as soon as they left the barrier. Riddle lead him to the edge, waving a hand in front of them, and a familiar silver shield surrounded them. Harry felt the warmth from Riddle’s side, and the hearty crackling of his magic, and took the first step outside of the barrier.

Harry spotted a man, hovering just to the left of them. The man in dark robes turned, scanning the area, before spotting them down below. Before the man could spout off a single thing to his fellow followers, he was pushed out of the sky by a stunning spell, falling with a sickening thud on the ground, followed by the broom which had lost its magic. Harry heard it crack, and a moan of pain, that was probably the Death Eater, who was hit with the fallen broom.

Harry turned to see Riddle’s hand out stretched, and a peculiar smile on his face. Riddle glanced over at the gapping Harry, who had his wand half raised to defend himself.

“I did say I don’t fight fair,” he quipped, his grip tightening on Harry’s clothes now, balling up the shirt. “We may want to pick up our pace now that the ones nearby were probably been alerted to our presence.”

Harry and Riddle dashed across the street, just as Harry could hear a few voices starting to gather overhead. Several popping sounds were heard, sparks flying from the street lamps all the way down either side of the road. The whole area became dark, as Harry heard the odd whirling hum of the power to the neighborhood going out. He didn’t even bother looking up now that all the light was gone, his legs moving quickly under him, and Riddle guiding him in the dark. Harry barely flinched at the crackling resonance of their shield being hit with spells, as Riddle batted them away like flies. A yelp from directly behind Harry was heard, just a few seconds before another thud.

They raced between houses, and when they reached a neighbor’s fence, Riddle did not slow them down. Instead, he waved his hand and the wooden boards parted for them like they were made of water. Harry barely had time to stare in awe, as they passed, then the boards snapped back to where they were, as though they never moved.

“We’re almost to the limit of the anti-disapparate jinx,” Riddle whispered, cutting them through another yard, and ducking around a corner just as another Death Eater flew over-head. Riddle pulled Harry up against the house they were hiding behind, watching intently as the Death Eater was glancing around. Riddle reached inside his coat, and pulled out the yew wand. He pointed it at the unsuspecting man, and whispered something under his breath. The Death Eater straightened on his broom, pausing in mid-air for a few moments, before darting off in a completely different direction. Harry could hear him shouting he saw Harry running down another area.

They only had to wait a few more seconds before it seemed every Death Eater was chasing after nothing. Riddle tucked the wand away, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.

“I’m quite capable without a wand, but there are limitations to even my magic,” whispered Riddle, who adjusted his coat, and fedora, which were displaced due to the running. He then held out his arm to Harry, who placed a hand on the crook of his elbow.  

Despite the tense circumstance, Harry chuckled a little, thinking they looked like they were a couple going to a ball, with Riddle dressed up as he was.

Riddle only smiled, leading Harry out to an alleyway. They remained covered in shadows now, stepping between buildings where even the moon’s glow wouldn’t reach. He turned his head to look at Harry. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

And the world went dark, as Harry felt the unpleasant sensation of disapparating across London, and staggered on his feet when they appeared in another alleyway in the quiet streets of Hogsmeade. Harry took a few moments trying to convince his stomach not to heave the little bit of food he had managed to eat for lunch, before Riddle lead him out of the alley, and onto the streets.

Harry looked around, not seeing a single person. One of the shops at the end of the block looked like it was burned to the ground. Harry vaguely remembered that being a tailoring shop he read in _The Daily Prophet_ , before he was pushed into the Three Broomsticks. Like the streets, the whole room was bare, except for Rosemerta who was already moving to close the door behind them. Her green eyes narrowed at the pair.

“Get upstairs before you cause a scene,” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips. Riddle gave her a smile that made her cheeks go red, tipping his hat to her, before all but dragging Harry upstairs. Harry turned to watch Rosemerta’s gaze linger a bit on Riddle’s retreating form as he went up the steps, with a little smirk on her lips, before turning back to the door of her inn.

Riddle opened the third door on their right, and waved Harry in.  Harry had barely made it past the threshold when Lupin sprung up from an old patched chair, and dash across the room to hug him.

“Harry!” Lupin said, almost crushing Harry in an embrace, and skewing Harry’s glasses in the process. “We’re were worried.”

“I gathered that bit myself,” Harry murmured, now tall enough to see over Lupin’s shoulder. He spotted Tonks with brightly colored purple hair, smiling, and playing with her wand, looking like she just stood up from her seat next to where Lupin was. Much to Harry’s dismay, Snape was sneering in the corner of the room, his arms crossed in front of him, making him almost blend into the heavy shadows cast by the fireplace.

“Did you have any trouble?” Tonks asked, as Riddle shut the door behind him.

“None at all,” Riddle said smoothly, his face not giving away a single thing. Harry could practically see Snape itching to call Riddle out on his lie, but thought better of it. Instead, his lips pinched tightly, going almost white.

Tonks brightened, patting Lupin on the shoulder. “I think Harry needs to breathe.”

Lupin let Harry out of the embrace, still holding his shoulders though, and smiling. There was a glint in his eyes, as though tears were gathering in them. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

“Same,” answered Harry, letting out his own smile.

“As touching as this is, we’re wasting time,” Snape said, stalking from his corner. “It won’t be long before the Dark Lord is notified that Potter is not at his Aunt’s home.”

“Right you are Severus,” Riddle said, looking around the room at everyone. “Wands out, and follow me.”

Despite what he said, Riddle lead the way without a wand. Lupin and Tonks flanked Harry as they walked with Snape bringing up the rear. Harry did feel a trill of apprehension with Snape at his back with a wand out, but he shook himself out of it. He was still angry at Snape for not giving a better sign that he had understood Harry in any way during that night, but he wasn’t going to let that spoil his return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had explained to them that Snape did alert the Order that Harry left the school, and it allowed their rescue at the Ministry. Harry had to trust that Dumbledore knew what he was doing, saying that Snape was on their side.

They quietly made their way through the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, like Harry and the Weasleys had made just after Christmas Holiday. This time, there wasn’t any snow on the ground; Springy grass covered the way, barely making a sound as they all walked quietly to Hogwarts. Harry felt his heart swell in joy as he saw the peaks of the castle. Their trip went by quickly, making it up to the oak doors Harry had just left a little over a week ago, but feeling it like it was a lifetime. Riddle pushed open the doors to reveal McGonagall waiting for them.

She was standing in the entry hall with her raven hair pulled into the severe bun, crocket pointed hat tilted to the side, and her green eyes staring right at Riddle. Instead of looking happy to see them, her lips were drawn tight, and her nostrils flared. Harry had only seen that expression once before, and it was during his second year when Ron and he flew into the whomping willow with Ron’s dad’s flying car. Even though Harry knew he didn’t do anything wrong he still felt himself shrinking at her piercing gaze.

“Ah, Minerva,” Riddle began holding out his arms as though to greet her warmly. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed at the handsome man, becoming slits. Riddle paused in his greeting, his hands slowly dropping to his side and his slight smile falling.

“ _Magnus Thomason_ ,” she began almost through her teeth. She pulled out a parchment that looked very familiar to Harry. “I want you to explain the meaning of this letter, and I do hope you have a very good explanation for why I received it.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Oh, indeed,” she snipped, marching up to Riddle, and pushing the rolled parchment into his chest. Harry could swear fire was going to come out of her nostrils at any moment. She turned her gaze to Harry for a moment and almost kindly, “It is good to see you safe Mr. Potter.” Before her eyes returned to Riddle, and snapped, “Well?”

“What’s this all about some papers?” Lupin asked. McGonagall whipped her head over to him.

“I’ve just received an owl from the Ministry declaring Harry Potter is now the legal ward of a Mr. Magnus R. Thomason along with a copy of the signed documents.”

Her voice echoed in the hall, and no one made a sound after. All eyes turned to Riddle, who twitched in his spot. His hands were still on his chest, holding the papers that were thrust at him there, and shuffled his feet. Harry wanted to reach out to help him, but the furious eyes of McGonagall, Lupin’s outrage, Tonks’ gapping mouth, and Snape’s still fury made him second guess. Like the rest of them, Harry looked at Riddle, wondering what he was going to do to get out of this. Harry wondered if there was a way to reverse the paperwork, and hoped, despite the reaction, there wasn’t.

“To be fair, Albus thought it was brilliant.”


	2. Gryffindor and Slytherin

 

The silence that rung out was almost deafening. Harry wasn’t even sure if he was breathing at that moment, as McGonagall’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Riddle, who stood completely by himself in the entryway of Hogwarts. It seemed the others gathered were also awaiting the fierce Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts to reply, as even Lupin was looking at her, as though she could fix the situation. Snape, unlike everyone else, was looking at Harry.   

“He did, did he?” asked McGonagall slowly.

“I shared my concerns with Albus, and he agreed that it would be best for me to take over guardianship of young Harry, until he reached seventeen, given all the circumstances,” Riddle explained calmly, though Harry noted he stayed perfectly still under her ire.

“And he shared this with you, did he?” asked McGonagall, then pursed her lips, and looked him up and down. Riddle finally caved and fidgeted under her observation, which only made McGonagall’s eyebrows angle down, a stern frown forming on her face. “Everyone –yes even you Tonks—follow me.”

She turned on her heel and marched through the halls of Hogwarts, robes billowing behind her. Harry scrambled to follow her, knowing better than to delay, and turned to look at Riddle, who was still frozen in the hall. Harry took a step towards him, grabbed the cuff of Riddle’s coat and tugged him along. Snape had moved behind them again, raising an eyebrow at the display in front of him, but not saying a word. Lupin looked ready to put a strangle hold on Riddle, but was pulled along by Tonks to catch up to McGonagall. Harry and Tonks spared each other a glance.

“Come on, we can finish this conversation in the safety of the school,” Tonks reasoned, looking around at everyone.

Harry offered a nod in her direction. Both her and Harry tugged their wards down the halls to the marble staircase, where they followed McGonagall up to the office that once belonged to Dumbledore. Harry stood next to Riddle on the moving staircase, glancing up at him from the corner of his eye. Riddle fidgeted and his eyes went over to Snape, who appeared to be ignoring everyone crammed into the staircase at the moment, which was hard to do since they all had to squeeze in tight to fit. Snape stared straight ahead now, and Riddle shuffled closer to the front of the pack, allowing Harry to let go of his cuff.

Once in the office, Harry could hear low voices as McGonagall and the Portrait of Dumbledore talked. McGonagall had her back to everyone as they came up, her hat swept off her head and dropped onto the desk. Harry observed that nothing in the office had moved in the week since he was last there. He wondered if McGonagall had kept her old office and worked there instead of here out of respect, or mourning.

“Well, now that we’re all together, let’s figure out how to fix this mess,” McGonagall started, turning to everyone. “It appears Albus was in fact, in favor of this.”

“It was a logical suggestion,” answered Dumbledore’s portrait.

Even though Harry had a long conversation with Dumbledore’s portrait just over a week ago, it still sent a shock down his spine, and made his eyes prickle. He wasn’t the only one phased, as Tonks’s eyes looked away, her hand coming up to rub at her nose, and her hair turning a dark brown now. For all Lupin’s fervor before, now his shoulders were drooped, and he appeared even more run down than usual. Snape moved to the corner of the room, his brows lowering, but no other change was seen.

“I did try to tell you,” said Riddle, ducking his head slightly at the sharp look he received from McGonagall.

“Yes, you did,” she said slowly.

“Hold on,” Lupin started, shaking his head. “I agree that Harry shouldn’t have to be at his Aunt and Uncle’s house any longer than strictly necessary, but you’ve always warned us against taking custody of him. Why change your mind now?”

Harry’s head turned back and forth, wondering the same thing. He never heard of anyone talking about taking him from the Dursley’s earlier in his life, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind more than staying with Sirius instead, and to hear Lupin may have asked for it, was surprising. Harry now knew the reason he had to stay at the Durlsey’s, for the protective magic his mother had given him to stay for another year. That protection had saved Harry more than a few times in the last few years, so even though he hated being at the Dursley’s, he could understand why he had to keep going back.

And if he were honest, he wouldn’t want the Durselys tortured or murdered for being associated with him. As mean and nasty as they were, they didn’t deserve that.

“It is true that the protection Lily gave to Harry lasts as long as he calls his Aunt’s house, home,” said Dumbledore, causing everyone’s eyes to snap up at the portrait. Dumbledore looked down at all of them with his spectacles down his crooked nose, and his hands folded. “This arrangement does not cancel it out as Harry spent this last week there. He will turn seventeen, the age in which that protection will become null before he can return next summer. I figured at this point, Harry deserves to choose where he wants to live, don’t you agree?”

Harry peaked around the room. McGonagall’s mouth opened once, then snapped close, as though she thought better of it. Snape had his arms crossed again, and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here in this office; his eyes stayed fixed on Dumbledore’s desk. Riddle had clasped his hands behind his back again, rocking slightly in his typical way.

Lupin was glancing between Dumbledore, Harry, and Riddle, as though he were wondering who he should be mad at, and then Harry felt a stab of guilt flood through him when Lupin’s eyes connected with his own. It didn’t take much for Harry to conclude that Lupin thought Harry didn’t ask to live with him because he was a werewolf. Lupin’s shoulders slumped, and he shrugged off Tonk’s attempt to comfort him.

“Lupin, it isn’t like that. I’d love to live with you,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on Lupin, who just nodded, still dejected. Harry clenched his jaw, wanting to make this right, but Riddle placed a hand on his shoulder, and ever so slightly shook his head.

“Anyone who takes Harry under their wing has a target on them,” Riddle started, pulling himself up to his full height. Everyone but Lupin turned to him. “I can take the Ministry, Voldemort—“ Snape flinched, and Tonks gasped. “—and his Death Eaters. It’s best their eyes stay off the ones closest to Harry during this time.”

“You signed up to be his legal guardian just to have the whole lot come after you, instead of us?” Lupin asked, frowning at Riddle, and if Harry had to guess, slightly irritated at the insinuation.

“Not just that, I care for Harry,” Riddle said, his grip tightening slightly on Harry’s shoulder before he let go. His hand dropped by his side. “I am aware of the Order of the Phoenix through Albus, but I am not a member, nor do I wish to become one. I cannot give away any secrets if I am captured, I have never been to the headquarters so I cannot lead anyone to it, and as I have proven at the Ministry, I most certainly have the power to make it a challenge for them to get to me in the first place.”

“You were the wizard in the mask at the Ministry, weren’t you?” asked Tonks suddenly, a look of awe on her face. Riddle nodded. She clapped her hands excitedly. “You were brilliant in there!”

“Thank you,” Riddle closed his eyes and did a slight bow, much to Tonks’ enjoyment, and ire of McGonagall, who’s lips pinched tightly at the display.

“Yes, let’s congratulate him on running off in the middle of the night without a word to anyone, chasing students he was supposed to be watching, and then trying to take on fourteen Death Eaters by himself,” McGonagall said, her voice pitching higher as she went on. She took a breath to steady herself, as Riddle shrank under her gaze. “You will be more responsible in the future, especially when it comes to Potter’s safety, is that clear?”

“Yes,” Riddle whispered, then when McGonagall lifted a sharp brow at him, louder, “Yes!”

Her stare pinned Riddle on the spot for a few more moments, before she turned to the rest of the group. Riddle’s shoulder bumped Harry when he relaxed, making it very difficult for Harry not to laugh at him. He had been under McGonagall’s piercing gaze enough times to know exactly what the older man was feeling.

McGonagall eyed the parchment she had shoved at Riddle as they laid still in Riddle’s hands, a sour expression.

“Well, since you’re Potter’s guardian, shall I discuss the matters that concern him with you?” asked McGonagall, and Harry had a sudden feeling like this was some sort of test.

“Harry is old enough to choose for himself,” Riddle answered without hesitation. “You don’t need my permission to talk or discuss things that concern him.”

Her gaze lingered on Riddle’s face for a moment, before the barest smile tugged at the corner of her lip. Harry felt relieved knowing Riddle passed whatever test she had set for him. Her head turned to face Harry.

“Now Potter, we have a few things to discuss with you,” she began, clasping her own hands together. “Since this is a private discussion about where you will stay, and some other affairs, it will be up to you if any can stay, or if anyone needs to step out of the room temporarily.”

Harry glanced around the room at everyone. He had no problems with Riddle or Lupin being in the room while discussing anything. He barely knew Tonks, but she seemed to be a good person, and Harry doubted anything embarrassing would be brought up by McGonagall to talk about in front of her. The only person he had to pause over was Snape, who seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking. His eyes narrowed at Harry, and he moved as though ready to excuse himself from the room, probably to spare himself from being dismissed by Harry, when Harry looked at Dumbledore’s Portrait for a moment. Dumbledore steadily held his gaze. Harry kept reminding himself to trust Dumbledore’s judgement.

“No, everyone can stay,” Harry answered, turning back to McGonagall, and deliberately not looking back at Snape. “I trust everyone in this room.”  

“Very well,” McGonagall said slowly, as though the answer surprised her, then her scrutinizing eyes moved to focus on Riddle. Harry got the feeling she was trying to express a sentiment of ‘don’t make me regret this’ to Riddle. “For Potter’s protection, you will not discuss anything in this meeting from here on, with anyone other than those in this room presently, with the exception to Arthur or Molly Weasley.”

“Of course,” answered Riddle with a nod. Harry could feel him fidgeting, even if he couldn’t see it, their arms pushed together in the small office. McGonagall still eyed him for a moment longer before returning to Harry.

“There is the matter of where you will be staying this summer,” said McGonagall. Harry waited for her to continue, and when she did not, he frowned. She noticed his dilemma and asked gently, “Where is it you wish to stay?”

 “Oh, I’d rather stay at the Burrow,” Harry answered.

“Very well,” she said, nodding. “You’ll stay here for the next two weeks while we sort out security with Arthur and Molly. I expect you to stay inside the castle at all times unless you are accompanied by myself or one of the other faculty members, is that understood, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, then, “What security?”

Harry felt a hand on his other shoulder, as Lupin smiled at him.

“You don’t think we would send you somewhere without at least a few Order members, and watch, did you?” asked Lupin, cocking an eyebrow at Harry. “I’m sure Molly would be delighted to see you, and none of the Weasleys would mind the extra precautions.”

“Moody is already there on guard,” Tonks added with a smile. “I’m sure he’d like to see you as well.”

Harry let out a small smile, thinking on Mad-eye Moody and his need to constantly warn everyone of danger. It was his advice that saved Harry from taking a drink from the tea Umbridge tried to serve him earlier this year. He would have to thank Moody in person for it. Harry was sure Moody would appreciate it.

“I can set up a meeting with the Head of the Auror’s,” Tonks paused and to Harry, “Rufus Scrimgeour” she turned back to the rest of the group, “and ask if he can set up a security detail around the Burrow,” Tonks finished, looking around for everyone’s approval. McGonagall nodded, and just above her head, the Portrait of Dumbledore was smiling serenely at the group.

“I don’t want everyone to go to such trouble for me,” Harry started, feeling his stomach clench on itself. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden on anyone. “I can stay here all summer if it’s easier.”

“It wouldn’t,” Snape snipped from his corner, making everyone turn. It was the first time he’s spoken since the inn. Harry had almost forgotten he was even in the room, even with his looming presence. “No matter where you go during the summer, it will be troublesome for all of us.”

“Well, then Potter you should go where you like,” said McGonagall briskly, as Snape’s head raised to frown at the clear jab she had taken at him, but McGonagall was looking at Harry. “Since it seems it’ll be the same to everyone in the room regardless.”

“Er—alright. Then, the Burrow,” shrugged Harry, not sure he wanted to be in the middle between McGonagall and Snape. Snape slipped back into his corner, crossing his arms tightly, and allowing the shadows to cast over much of his form. Harry was reminded of a scene from a Muggle horror movie, though he couldn’t recall which one.

“Good. Let’s move on to the next matter,” she said tersely, leaving no room for complaint, and paused as though to steady herself. She glanced down at a worn piece of paper sitting on the desk, before continuing with a softer voice, “We need to discuss Sirius’s will, which was discovered just yesterday. He left all he owned to you, Potter.”

Harry felt like someone just took an invisible hand and squeezed his insides. He was grateful for the steady figure of Riddle standing next to him. “Oh, right.”

“Now, I know this is… a sensitive subject but I’ll make it as straightforward and quick as I can,” McGonagall continued, “We will transfer the gold to your account at Gringotts; unless you would like to take it on your person, which I do not recommend. You also inherit all of Sirius’s personal belongings. We can help you sort through them whenever you are ready.”

Harry stood there, looking down at his shoes, willing the tears to stay back. He refused to cry in front of all the people in the room. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he was being dramatic, or attention seeking. Instead, he concentrated on what he was just told, noticing a lack of talking about Sirius’s house which was the Order’s headquarters. Harry couldn’t care what happened to it, only thinking of all the time Sirius was probably alone in its old halls. He lifted his head, about to tell them they could keep using the house, if Sirius did leave it to him, when he noticed McGonagall’s eyes darted up to Riddle, and then to Harry. It struck him suddenly, Riddle wasn’t supposed to know where Sirius’s house was, because it was the Order’s headquarters. He couldn’t discuss it with Riddle at all, or share anything about it. Harry clenched his jaw.

“Now, when you’re ready, we’ll discuss if you want to go back there to collect items, or what you would like to do with it in the future. For now, we can set it aside for tonight. You can stay in the Gryffindor tower, in your dorm, if that suits you,” McGonagall went on, “The rest is Order business. I believe, if you would like Potter, you can return here later and we will discuss anything you should be aware of.”   

Harry and Riddle let the office together, heading up to the Gryffindor tower. As they left, Harry peeked over his shoulder to see Snape twitch in their direction. Snape was the only person in that office besides Dumbledore’s Portrait that knew who Riddle really was. It was a surprise to find that Snape didn’t corner Harry and ask what was going on, or make any moves. At least, not that Harry could see.

They stayed quiet all the way up to the Gryffindor tower, and when Harry greeted the Fat Lady, she seemed surprised to find a student there. After a quick explanation, and Harry providing the last password before he left school, she swung open to allow both of them entry into the common room. The common room seemed odd without any students, or personal items floating around. Since the curtains were drawn around the arched windows, and the middle of the night approaching, it was easy to pretend everyone was just asleep. Harry didn’t miss the misshapen knitted hats Hermione was stashing around the room all year though, and the fireplace was clearly not used in the last week, empty of ashes.

“You can stay in your regular bed for the next two weeks,” Riddle began, glancing around the clean room. “You’ll find your trunk already there, and your owl is in the owlery.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, and meant it. He shuffled around a bit, not quite tired yet, and not having Ron or Hermione to talk to. “Are you heading to your room now?”

“Dinner actually, if you would like to come,” Riddle said, sweeping the fedora from his head, and running a hand through his hair. Harry just noticed how odd Riddle looked in his 1940’s suit standing in the middle of the Gryffindor common room.

“I’d like that,” answered Harry with a smile, though it was for a few reasons.

“We can take it in here, if that would be more comfortable,” Riddle suggested, looking around the room again, his hands worrying at the brim of his hat. “You can also go to the Great Hall, if you prefer.”

“Here is fine.”

“Oh… I’ll get us something to eat. I’m sure you have questions,” Riddle already moving towards the table everyone used as a study area. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs with the red and gold cushion on it, and sat down. Snapping his fingers, and with a _POP_ two plates with a set of silverware for each appeared along with two platters of food, two goblets, and a bowl with fresh rolls. Harry took a second to just remind himself that he would probably never get used to things just appearing.

 “I was wondering, what are we going to do about Voldemort?” asked Harry, sitting beside Riddle at the table.

“Well, for now we do nothing,” answer Riddle, grabbing a steaming roll from the platter in front of him, and tearing it in two. As he started spreading butter on it, “He’s going to be busy with trying to take care of the Ministry for the time being, and most likely trying to monitor your movements. From what I’ve seen of the Order, they are already trying to counter his movements, by placing key members in higher levels.”

“Can’t we do anything to out any of the Death Eaters?”

“Well, I think you covered most of the top leaders in that interview you gave last February,” Riddle said with a smile, tucking into his dinner. Harry scooped some of the roasted beef on his plate, and grabbed a roll when Riddle eyed him. “We can only do so much right now. Think of it like setting a chess board to play. We can’t start playing until all the pieces are in place. Right now, we only have part of the pieces on the board.”

“What are we missing?” asked Harry, then taking a bite of some roast. Harry chewed it quickly, and his stomach clenched at the first sign of food in it, reminding Harry he had barely eaten in the last two weeks. He took another bite, but this time it was much bigger.

“That is really for the Order members to know. I only have fringe knowledge of what is happening at best, but I believe I am still able to step in when needed. My main concern is keeping you and your friends safe until we can start moving forward with any plans to take out Voldemort. It’s just a waiting game,” Riddle said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still darting around the room. He paused for a moment. “Not to change the subject, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen what the Gryffindor common room looks like.”

“You were here the night that… I had the vision,” Harry reminded him.

“Yes,” Riddle answered with a slight nod, still looking around at the hanging banners, the stoned fireplace, and the notice board now empty. “But I was rather too busy to take in the sights.” A pause. “You lot really like your house colors.”

Harry snorted into his cup, as he took a sip of a sweet drink that Harry noted, he usually only ever got on Holiday. “You’re one to talk. Slytherin’s common room isn’t much better what with the skull décor, black leather seats, and even the lamps are green. Honestly, it’s got to be nerve wrecking having half the lake hanging over your dorm.”

“You’ve been in the Slytherin Dungeon?” asked Riddle suddenly, pausing his bringing his fork to his mouth.

“In my second year,” Harry answered with a nod. “Ron and I drank polyjuice potion to be Crabbe and Goyle, so we could ask Malfoy if he was the Slytherin heir, or knew who they were.”

“Well, aren’t you clever,” Riddle said, with a smile. “Only Slytherins have been in that house in nearly seven centuries. I have to say, I’m rather impressed you accomplished that in your second year.” 

“It was Hermione that made the potion,” Harry said, then grabbed his cup again, motioning it like he was cheering. “My point still stands though; Gryffindor house has the better rooms. I’d take a tower over a dungeon any day.”

“Slytherin is loads better,” Riddle argued, with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Green and silver are much more agreeable colors and who doesn’t love a good snake portrait above their fireplace?”

Harry coughed as he had started laughing as he was taking a sip from his cup. Riddle’s hand slapped him on the back a few times, as he cleared his throat, still laughing, even as he felt some of the liquid make itself into his nose. Riddle curled a hand in front of his own mouth, attempting to hide his own mirth, but the crinkle on the corner of his eyes giving him away.

“I almost forget sometimes that you are a Slytherin,” Harry started when he could finally breath again. “I think it’s the lack of trying to jinx me every few seconds that throws me off.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be fair of me to do that,” Riddle started, his face angled up as though lost in thought and a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’d learn to expect it. Any good Slytherin bides their time, and strikes only when the time is right.”

“And when would that be?”

“When I wouldn’t get caught of course,” he answered, his eyes connecting with Harry’s, as he raised a single brow. “It’s no fun when you’re in trouble.”   

For seemingly no reason at all, all Harry could think of was the handsome young face of Sirius, who probably sat in the chair Riddle was in right now, saying something incredibly similar. Harry’s lungs threatened to make him cough again as a bubbling sensation built up in his stomach that wasn’t entirely pleasant though, as much as he wanted to be able to keep his mirth up. Harry felt himself bark out a laugh that was almost against his will, putting down his fork, as an unexpected itch in his nose began that had nothing to do with his drink. He pursed his lips, trying to hold back the wave of grief that came in like a tide, washing away his happiness.

Riddle tilted his head slightly, watching Harry who struggled with a sudden bout of sorrow. Riddle’s lips dropped, his eyes turning back to his plate. The warmth of the room, while still present, no longer felt like it reached the two-people sitting at the table. As though the castle felt their change, the windows rattled with as a howling wind whipped by.

“I wish I were better at this,” Riddle started, holding up a hand to stop Harry from interjecting. “I know I’m not good at personal relationships Harry, it’s not a tough burden most of the time to bare to be honest, but I want you to know that I am here for you.”

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it, and he certainly didn’t want to leave the table just yet. Riddle seemed to understand, as he continued to finish his dinner in silence next to Harry, as a presence that was comforting. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the ache of missing Sirius or Dumbledore in random moments. The ache was worse now after having felt pure joy for a moment. It almost felt like guilt, for being happy so soon after both of them.

Harry picked at his food, but did try to eat more. Riddle sat with him for an hour after the food had gone cold, letting the silence that had started off stilted, become comforting, before leading Harry up to his dormitory. Riddle hesitated at the stairs, looking at the four poster beds, the stone walls, and arched windows.

“You know,” Riddle started, wringing his hands together, “I can conjure a couch in my room, if you prefer to stay closer to someone.” He ducked his head as though embarrassed, before almost whispering, “I promise not to make it green.”

Harry paused, and felt the sudden urge to either cry or laugh. Instead, he said, “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Then gather your night clothes. I’ll wait in the common room while you get ready,” Riddle’s mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, but didn’t want to show it. He shuffled his feet around, and turned quickly to leave.

Harry watched him disappear down the stairs, before turning to get his things. He quickly brushed his teeth, and changed into a large shirt and shorts for sleeping. He threw on his dressing gown just in the chance they ran into anyone else, he didn’t want to be caught in his sleep wear. He took the steps two at a time on the way down, half expecting Riddle to leave with how long Harry was taking, and felt almost a wave of relief at seeing the tall man standing by the fireplace. Harry shook himself to stop the remembrance of Sirius’s face in that same spot just a few months back. Sirius wouldn’t want Harry to wallow in self-pity, or feel sad whenever Harry thought of him. He could almost imagine how Sirius would lecture him about hating being the center of any grief. Harry let out a breath through his nose, and turned steadily towards Riddle.

“Are you ready, Harry?” asked Riddle.

“Yeah, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment and/or Kudos.


	3. Hogwarts Board of Governors

Harry rolled over on the couch and reached for his glasses. He had to fight to get his arm out as the green woven blanket had become tangled in the night. Once he was up, Harry glanced around the room. Riddle had converted his office into a temporary bedroom for Harry late last night. All the books were moved to clear out a corner space, where a large couch now sat with Harry on it. Riddle had conjured it along with a side table, so Harry had some place to put his things. Apart from those changes, the rest of the office looked very much the same, with the shag rug, stacks of books, and the messy desk covered in papers.

Harry could hear soft footsteps as Riddle came into the room, already dressed, and carrying a few books he had taken into his room.

"Ah, you're awake," he started, offering a smile, and shuffling his books. "I can have your trunk fetched if you want to get dressed, and leave to pick up breakfast if you would like privacy."

"Er—yes please," answered Harry, still waking up. He ran a hand through is hair, feeling bits of it still sticking up on end.

Riddle's smile warmed at the sight. "I'll be down in the Great Hall, whenever you're ready to start the day."

Riddle made his way out the door before Harry could think to ask him to stay. Harry sat wondering if he was inconveniencing the man for staying in his office, but shrugged. It wasn't like he could do anything about it right now, and Riddle did seem to enjoy his company. He was about to throw his blanket off when he saw a familiar shimmering cloak at the end of the couch.

Harry scrambled up and grabbed it, clutching onto the fabric. He had almost thought it was a lost cause to get back, his dad's invisibility cloak. The last time he had seen it was in Umbridge's office, which was a wreck after the short duel in it. After that, Harry had been too busy with the battle at the Ministry, and then grieving to even think of trying to find it again. He turned it over and saw a little note attached to the collar:

_Keep this on you at all times_

_T.R._

Harry folded up his cloak, knowing he was now going to have to wear robes most of the time in order to hide it properly. He looked towards the door wondering if he was going to have to wait long when his trunk appeared, rocking slightly as though it were tossed in the middle of the room. Harry flinched back, not expecting it to rattle into the office suddenly. When it didn't look like anyone would appear after it, like a house elf, Harry approached his trunk and started gathering his things.

The Great Hall was rather quiet despite the few teachers who gathered in it for the morning. Harry felt strange coming in seeing the long tables almost empty of anyone, and the fireplace that usually was roaring even during the warm days, left abandoned. The candles that hovered in the air were dimly flickering for most of the hall, expect for a spot near the end. Even odder that the stillness in the hall was seeing Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, and Riddle all huddled together as the end of the Slytherin table. Harry froze for a moment when they all looked up.

"All righ', Harry!" called Hagrid, waving his large hand, beckoning Harry to come over. Harry shuffled over to the group, as Hagrid moved to make space between him and Riddle. Harry sat down, just as Hagrid's hand patted him on the back. "It's good to see yeh, 'pecially so soon."

"It's good to see you, too," Harry replied, smiling up at Hagrid, and it really was good. Something about seeing him around Hogwarts again, bushy haired, and still too big, made Harry's heart ache a little less.

"Help yourself to some breakfast," said McGonagall, who sat across from Hagrid and between Snape and Flitwick.

Harry didn't even really notice all the food spread out across the table until just then. Hagrid handed him an empty plate to start filling, already talking about some new creatures he was excited to show the sixth years, and how much easier it's going to be to get into the Forbidden Forest now that the Centaurs were being peaceful again. Harry attempted to keep up with the conversation, but he was busy just watching everyone. It wasn't every day that he sat in the middle of a group of his teachers chatting away. He was almost disappointed with how mundane it was but Harry did notice Snape sitting rather stiffly in his seat, sipping something that looked suspiciously like the sherry Trelawney would sometimes have.

A group of owl that came soaring in from the open windows interrupted their conversations. Almost every single owl came to sit in front of McGonagall who was busy pulling an issue of the _Daily Prophet_ from the first one. The owls hopped around, all trying to get their letters taken next, disturbing the plates. Hagrid chuckled, moving a few out of the way, and Flitwick ducked the plate below the table, being at an advantage to go so since he was so short. Snape looked unbothered, lifting his plate above the birds to avoid getting anything on it, as though it were an old routine by now. Harry was surprised to see so many owls sitting in front of McGonagall and no one else.

A great white and tan barn owl swooped in to sit in front of Riddle, extending his leg. Harry could see the other teachers pause for a moment, and Harry tried to remember if Riddle ever got mail before. He couldn't remember a single time, though he didn't pay attention every morning to the post. Riddle gently took the letter from the owl's leg, and unfolded it, keeping it close to his chest. Unlike the owls in front of McGonagall, this owl waited patiently as though expecting a reply, as it blinked up at Riddle. Riddle's eyes went over the parchment, his brows raising as he went along, and his lips pursing slightly.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"Oh," Riddle started, folding the parchment up and shoving it into a pocket in his formal robes. "Nothing too important."

Riddle snapped his fingers and a piece of parchment with a quill appeared in front of him. Harry could make out the note from where he was sitting:

_I shall think on it_

_Magnus R. Thomason_

Riddle rolled it up, and attached the note to the barn owl's leg, and it took off at once. Riddle watched the owl disappear through the window, then went back to his food as though nothing odd had occurred. McGonagall had temporarily paused in her letter gathering as well, eyeing Riddle for a moment, then returned to gathering the rest from the impatient birds.

"Alright, you can all go now," McGonagall said, waving the owls away. One nipped in her direction, but one by one they all flew off. "It'll get worse after the test results go out."

"Are most of them from students?" asked Harry, now watching McGonagall go through each letter.

"Some are, others are from worried parents," she answered, frowning at the one she was reading currently. Her eyes scanned the document, and she looked up at Riddle, "Would you mind if I borrowed your quill?"

"Oh, not at all," Riddle answered, handing it over to her so quickly a drop of ink splattered to the table from the end. Neither commented on it, as McGonagall thanked him and started a reply. Riddle twiddled his thumbs and looked down at his food while Snape placed his goblet down, his dark eyes going between the two.

Harry was about to ask what was going on when Hagrid started up another conversation about some of the interesting creatures, all which Harry thought sounded more dangerous than interesting, he was going to bring to the school this year. Flitwick and Snape started talking about their plans for the summer. Flitwick was going to his family's cottage up north for a month before returning, while Snape seemed to be leaving as well for his own home. Harry wasn't even aware that Snape had quarters outside of Hogwarts. For some reason, Harry always thought Snape just appeared in the dungeons every day and lurked around the school. It was hard to imagine a home that he would go back to. When he heard McGonagall and Riddle talk about Quidditch, Harry turned to listen in.

"—and Pomona will have the pitch back in shape for practice soon enough," McGonagall finished, looking over at Riddle, who tilted his head, an odd smile on his face. "It's rather exciting to see if any new talent comes up from the second years. It's something positive to look forward to."

"I couldn't agree more," Riddle answered, leaning slightly towards McGonagall. "We've all got to find something bright in these dark days."

"If you come back for another year here, you should come to the games," McGonagall offered, shooting a glance at Snape, before, "Gryffindor has won every year, for the last five years, and I believe are the first to play next year."

"Only due to luck, I assure you," Snape said, almost offhandedly, taking a sip from his goblet. Flitwick's hand came up to his face, blocking a smile.

"Oh, it was luck that our seeker caught the snitch right under the Slytherin's seeker's nose, was it?" responded McGonagall, who looked over at him with a raised brow.

"Fortune often favors the fool," he responded dryly, gathering his robes, and standing up. "Now, I've much to attend to. Good day."

Harry watched as Snape left out of the side door to the hall, many of the others snickering as he went. Harry barely held himself from gapping at their behavior, not used to seeing his teachers be so relaxed around him.

"I think we're setting a bad example for Mr. Potter with our teasing," said Flitwick, who looked far too amused to actually be telling off anyone.

"He'll be here for two weeks," started Riddle, raising a goblet. "That's far too long to be professional during the summer."

"Hear, hear!" cheered Hagrid, tapping his goblet against Riddle's nearly knocking it out of Riddle's hand. McGonagall surprised Harry by tapping Riddle's goblet as well with her own, and Flitwick winked at Harry as he did the same.

They continued to chat for a few minutes, mainly about Quidditch matches, and which first year Hooch had mentioned looked like a good flyer. Harry had finished his breakfast and was looking towards the door every few minutes, wondering if Tonks and Lupin were going to join them, or if they were still in Hogwarts.

"Anyone you're waiting for?" asked Flitwick, seeing Harry's eyes travel to the door and back. "We're the only ones here, besides Professor Sprout who sticks to her greenhouse during the summer."

"Oh," answered Harry, feeling foolish for not just asking outright.

"If you've had enough to eat Harry, I'd like to go over a few things with you in private," said Riddle as he stood up. He looked over at the others. "As always, it's a pleasure."

"Sure," answered Harry, standing as well. He looked over at all the teachers, smiling. "It was nice having breakfast with all of you."

"Always room fer yeh at the table Harry," said Hagrid, a smile under all his bushy hair.

"Thanks," Harry smiled back, nodding to everyone else, as Riddle lead him out of the Great Hall.

Riddle lead him down the hall, up the marble staircase, and into an empty classroom. Riddle peeked around, making sure no one was following them before opening the door. Harry went inside, eyeing the desk covered in dust that was pushed against the wall and several broken chairs. Riddle waved his hand over the threshold of the doorway to put up a silencing spell. He turned and with another wave, the old torches on the wall came to life, showing the cobwebs in the corner, and the decorations of broken skulls.

"This used to be the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom," Riddle started, fidgeting, and grabbing a broken chair from the pile.

He tapped it three times with his index finger and with a CLICK, it snapped back together, looking brand new. He tilted it towards Harry, who took it and sat down, as Riddle grabbed another and fixing it as well before sitting across.

"I didn't want to mention this in front of any of the teachers, since this is a sensitive subject," Riddle started, wringing his hands together. "The letter I received this morning was from the Ministry."

Harry felt his heart pound in his chest. He worried briefly if the Ministry found out it was Riddle in the hall that night, or if they found out that the papers Riddle signed weren't the correct one, and Harry really wasn't out from under the Dursely's anymore. When Riddle saw his distressed face, he shook his head.

"It's nothing to worry over," he said quickly, "They want to interview me."

"Interview you?" asked Harry, frowning now. He wondered if Umbridge had even remembered about her flippant remark about getting Riddle a job. "For a position in the Ministry?"

"Oh, that would be something," said Riddle, with a tight smile. He shook his head, and sighed. Harry hasn't seen him this nervous in some time, not counting being under McGonagall's stare. Riddle pursed his lips, and ran a hand through his hair, before raising his head back to Harry, "They want me to be interviewed for Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Harry paused. Then, "What?"

"I thought the same," Riddle said, huffing a laugh. "I'm unknown, and barely covering legal, even if Albus was clever in his paperwork."

"Why would they pick you, instead of McGonagall?" asked Harry.

"I was wondering the same, when they mentioned a letter," said Riddle, leaning against his chair. He shuffled his feet as he dug into his pocket. He pulled out the parchment and handed it to Harry. "Somehow, Albus had a letter set up that if he –was no longer around—that it would be sent to the Minister, recommending me for the spot as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"It must have been a convincing letter," said Harry, unfolding the letter, and reading it.

_Dear Mr. Magnus Thomason_

_It is our great honor to inform you the Hogwarts Board of Governors have chosen to go forth with an interview on the recommendation of the late Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for the Headmaster of Hogwarts position. On behalf of the Board, we would like to schedule an interview this evening. We await your response no later than 4pm by Owl or Floo._

_Respectfully,_

_Cornelius Oswald Fudge_

_Minister of Magic_

Harry read it over twice, wondering what exactly Dumbledore put in that letter, and reminding himself to ask the portrait. He thought about Riddle becoming the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he had to come to a single conclusion, "It makes sense."

"Power for power, right?" asked Riddle.

"Er—and clever for clever," answered Harry, looking up from the letter. A great warmth was rising from his gut, and spreading through his chest. Yes, this was a good idea. If Hogwarts didn't have Dumbledore to protect it anymore again Voldemort, what better protection could it have but a man equal to the power that threatened it? Not only was Riddle capable of the same magic as Voldemort, but he was distinctly clever like Voldemort, but with the added advantage of knowing his opponent. It was brilliant!

"I thought the same, but Hogwarts works best when it's united," Riddle ran a hand over his face then crossed his arms. "With Minerva in charge, it would be united. All the teachers, even Severus, respect her greatly. It would make sure Hogwarts had a unified front against any assaults, whereas with me, I could break that front. No one had loyalties to me, Harry. I'm the outsider."

"That may be true, but it seems they all like you," said Harry, thinking back just to this breakfast. "Well, the few I saw you interact with."

"They appear to be, only out of politeness, I assure you," answered Riddle, dipping his head so his hair dropped to cover part of his eyes. He reached out, and Harry handed him the letter back. He tucked it back into the concealed breast pocket in his robes. "I have to answer them soon with an actual answer. I doubt they would take my silence positively. Fudge is looking at losing his position at the Ministry within the next day or so, and I fear he wants to use choosing a Headmaster here as a hold to keep his place."

"How would making anyone Headmaster keep him in power?"

"Simple," he started, leaning back again "If he picks someone the public feels make their children safer, he's moving the country for the better. If he chooses incorrectly, he will lose what little faith they have in him. He sits as a knife's edge right now, about to lose everything. If I had to wager what Albus wrote in that letter, it would be enforcing the idea that picking me would be about security of the school, and a powerful political move."

"But, wouldn't it be?" asked Harry frowning. "You're as strong as Voldemort. If people worry he'll attack the school, they would want someone like you protecting it. I certainly feel safer knowing you're here."

"Thank you," he murmured, shifting slightly. "I would say you were right but, only your friends, Severus, and you know who I really am."

Harry felt like a bolt of lightning went down his spine. He had completely forgotten to warn Riddle about Snape finding out his secret, but it seemed he shouldn't have worried. He sat up straight in his chair, and Riddle gave him a soft smile that barely calmed Harry's hammering heart.

"Oh, he went to Albus that very night to find out if it were true," Riddle explained, covering his smile with his hand. "It was quite a shock, I assure you, but Albus has been wanting another member of the Order to know for some time. He informed me that of all of them, it was probably best that Severus know, given his position as spy." Riddle waved off Harry's attempts to apologize. "You have nothing to apologize for. It was always a risk, having anyone know." –he leaned in close to Harry like telling him a secret and whispered— "Between you and me, I personally like Severus wondering if I remembered some of the more… _rude_ … comments he's made to me in the past."

Harry was almost mortified when he laughed at it. He could clearly imagine how uncomfortable Snape would be in a room with Riddle now. It made a lot of sense. How Snape was always quiet, with only a few snide remarks, which was unusual. Harry also thought it was because of their interactions that caused Snape to start ignoring Harry, now he could see it was also because of the knowledge. That silent furious look Snape gave Riddle after finding out about the paperwork was clear. Snape was trying to protect Harry, and this would be the equivalent of tossing Harry to a fleet of Dementors without a wand.

Harry made a silent promise to himself, to corner Snape and try to explain things. Normally he wouldn't bother with what the potion's master thought of but now that Riddle was involved, and Voldemort's power rising, the less miscommunication between them, the better.

"Does he believe that you're from another universe?" asked Harry, now that he had his laughter controlled.

"He does, as there is no other explanation for what is occurring," Riddle answered, his amusement also calmed. "But, I don't think his and my trust would survive if I took over as Headmaster. We're on shaky ground as it stands."

"You shouldn't weigh that against the protection of the school," said Harry, leaning forward. "Interview for the position at the very least. Then, let them decide between you and McGonagall. Hogwarts would be lucky to have either one of you and I'm sure McGonagall would allow you to teach if she took the position."

"I'll tell you the same thing I replied to the Minister with, I shall think on it," Riddle responded, then stood up. He clasped his hands together. "But for now, let's get some fresh air. Bring your wand and we'll work on some spells this afternoon."

"Sounds great," Harry relented, knowing Riddle was using this as a diversion, stood up, and followed Riddle out of the room. He knew he would have more chances through the day to question Riddle.

Much of the day was taken up by practicing spells out on the grounds of Hogwarts. The hot day was made pleasant by the cool breeze that came in from the lake, and the fluffy clouds that gave shade as they moved across the sky. Harry did end up taking off his robes, leaving just his shirt and trousers, as it was getting too warm for even him. Somehow, Riddle always looked like he was still in a chilled room, never sweating even buttoned up in his typical formal robes. Harry was almost tempted a few times to ask if he had a charm on his clothes to keep him at a certain degree.

"Very good," Riddle said, clapping as well, as Harry successfully preformed a blasting spell against a rock, shattering it into pieces. "Now, we're going to try something new. Try to do the same spell, but without saying the words."

"Non-verbal spells?" asked Harry, huffing slightly. "But, that's not taught until mid-year!"

"Never too early to learn," answered Riddle, snapping his fingers and a rock a few meters away shattered into pieces with a blue spark. "The magic will come if you say it aloud or not. By speaking the spells, all you're doing is telling yourself to focus on what you want. Intent, that is what is important, not the words."

"I'll try," said Harry, readjusting the grip on his wand, and moving slightly closer to the next rock. He pursed his lips, making sure he didn't accidentally say the words, before trying to cast the spell. When he flicked his wand, instead of the rock shattering, it sat there, unmoved. Harry felt his cheeks burn, but not because of the sun this time. He steadied his hold, and tried again, this time saying the spell in his head. Still, the rock remained in one piece.

"Keep practicing," Riddle said, tilting his head, and had the good grace to not look disappointed. Instead, he smiled. "No one gets it right the first time."

"Even you?"

"Oh, I definitely cast something when I tried the first time," Riddle answered, tucking his chin, and his shoulders shook with a laugh. "I was trying to make a book levitate, instead it sprang to life, and chased me around the dorm room until I locked it in a closet. I actually had to go to Slughorn, Slytherin head of house, to unenchanted it."

Harry let out laugh, turning the rock, and cocking an eyebrow. "And you wanted me to start with a rock?"

"Well," Riddle started, shuffling his own feet, and looking at Harry. "I can at least do better than locking it into a closet if we have the misfortune of repeating history."

They continued for another few minutes, before Riddle called it time to rest. Harry felt his shoulders slump, as the rock still hadn't so much as budged during his practice. It seemed like verbal spells may just be something Harry wasn't good at. Harry tried not to be too disappointed, as Riddle kept reassuring him that casting non-verbal spells was something most wizards never really master. Harry thought back to the fight in the Ministry and couldn't help but compare himself to the wizards there. It seemed every Death Eater, Order Member, Dumbledore, Riddle, and Voldemort could all cast non-verbal spells. Harry could see himself at a huge disadvantage if he couldn't master them.

Harry washed up in the Prefect's bathroom, being allowed by McGonagall who told Harry at lunch that he might as well use it while he's here. He was grateful for the suggestion, enjoying the hot water bath that smoothed his muscles after practicing with Riddle most of the morning.

Harry had just gotten dressed when Riddle and a few others rounded the corner. Harry stood with his wet hair, and damp clothes from the steam in the bathroom, as the Minister Fudge, Percy Weasley, a few others, and Riddle came around. Harry crept over to the door, and slowly pulled it almost shut, peeking out.

"I'm glad you've considered an interview Mr. Thomason," said Fudge, shaking Riddle's hand with a firm grip. Riddle gave a pleasant smile in return, shaking his hand, and releasing the grip quickly.

"As you would expect, it was quite a decision," said Riddle, then glanced at the dark space where Harry was, before directing the group away from the bathroom door. "I believe we can use a classroom down this hallway."

"Very good," Fudge said, looking at Percy, who was making furious notes with his quill. "Make sure you're getting everything down for us Mr. Weasley."

"Of course, Minister," Percy said, nodding and his nose only a few inches from the parchment.

They continued down the hall, just as Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak. Harry wondered if this was Riddle's intention the whole time to have Harry follow them, as he snuck out of the bathroom and crept down the hall. Due to the number of people joining the Minister on this trip, Harry's shuffling feet didn't draw any attention. Riddle held open the door for everyone to go in, lingering in the door way for few moments longer, allowing Harry to duck in. Harry purposely brushed up against Riddle's arm as he went in, letting the older man know he was there.

Riddle looked down with a hint of a smile, before shutting the door, and the interview began. Riddle conjured a few seats for everyone in the room minus Harry. The Governors all took their seats in a line, with Percy standing behind the Minister's seat ignoring his own chair, and Riddle sat up front. Harry could see many of the people brought their own quills, and were already jotting down notes, though Harry couldn't tell why they were writing, as Riddle hadn't said anything yet. Harry looked down the line of people, recognizing only a face or two from the Ministry, but there were two he didn't. One was a short, stubby woman with rosy cheeks, and curly brown hair, and a man with an impressive mustache, who was one of the few not taking notes.

"Well, let's get on with the interview, shall we?" asked Fudge, rubbing his hands together, and looking around him. When he received a few nods, he smiled over at Riddle, who was sat perfectly attentive in his chair, hands folded in his lap. "For the record of this interview, please state your name for us."

"Magnus Ragnvard Thomason," Riddle answered smoothly, as if Harry didn't know that was a complete lie, he would have believed him. Harry watched as many of the started scratching that name out on their parchments.

"Mr. Thomason, we're interviewing you today for the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts. As you can see, we have the Hogwarts Board of Governors with us, along with my assistant, Mr. Weasley for this interview who will be keeping strict notes," Fudge began as though no one knew what they were here for. A white-haired wizard seemed to roll his eyes at the formality. Fudge continued on, "We'll of course ask several questions, which the answers to will be notated, as well as demonstration of your skills at the end. But, before we get any further I would like to start by asking what makes you qualified for the position?"

"Oh, I'm not," answered Riddle, tilting his head slightly.

"I—I beg your pardon?" asked the stubby witch, looking up from her notes.

Many of the other Board members leaned to one another, muttering, staring at Riddle who sat as though unaffected by this outcome. The wizard who rolled his eyes earlier now snorted into his fist, and trying to pass it off as a cough. Harry could sympathize with the dark-haired witch with the patchwork hat who glared at Riddle as though he were wasting her time, as Harry wanted to go over to Riddle, and kick him for being so insolent.

"I do not believe I am qualified," Riddle repeated, his gaze turning to her for a second, before going back to Fudge, who looked like he may have just swallowed his own tongue. "I was rather hoping you could explain how my name happened to be drawn for the position as I am quite certain Professor McGonagall is more worthy of the honor."

"Well, I… uh, Dumbledore sent this letter," Fudge stammered, his eyes bulging out, and his extra chin shaking as he tried to explain. "He explained –quite clearly I might add—that you were the best choice for this position. The highest recommendation, he said!"

"Is that a fact?" asked Riddle, putting on a show of rubbing his chin in thought. "I've only taught for one year at this school prior, and I dare say that I have made little impact on education. I fail to see why I would be qualified for such a position."

"My good man," started a man in deep purple robes, his hazel eyes wide in surprise. "When Albus Dumbledore recommends someone, he does not do so lightly!"

"It was a rather glowing review," said a female witch with round spectacles that kept sliding down her long nose. "Half of us were tempted to hire you without an interview."

"So, all of you have read this letter?" asked Riddle, looking around at all of them. Some of them shifted slightly in their seats, as Fudge also noticed their guilty movements. If Fudge didn't look nervous before, he sure did now that he was aware of others reading his post. "Hm." Riddle nodded his head.

Fudge shifted in his seat, his jaw clenching a few times, and sweat starting to bead at his receding hairline. Percy, who stood over Fudge's shoulder, was shrinking back slightly, his hands still instead of taking the furious notes like before.

"Well, can you produce this famous letter?" asked Riddle, his chin lifting slightly, "So, I know exactly what it is that you all expect from me?"

Harry had to give him credit, he was commanding the room like he did his class. Harry now understood exactly why Riddle had sat in the position he had. He was sitting right where a teacher would stand for class, and the Board members were all like students. Their uncertain expressions, and quiet attention were just like a group of first years in class. Harry watched as Fudge handed over the letter, and Riddle read it silently to himself, nodding on a few lines.

" _Ah_ , I see," Riddle said, folding the letter back up. Instead of handing it back to Fudge, he tucked it away in his own robes. Fudge opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but then Riddle started. "This is about Voldemort."

Half the room gasped, the short witch little out a tiny yelp as she covered her mouth, and the man with the mustache almost fell off his chair. Fudge was the only one who didn't make a sound, but paled considerably. Harry watched as Percy shakenly bent down to retrieve his quill that he had dropped at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Fudge stammered, "You already have quite the reputation due to Dolores's reports and Dumbledore's letter only reinforces it. With Lord… uh… well… you know… back and all, the Ministry needs to know that Hogwarts is in capable hands."

"Was Dumbledore correct?" demanded another wizard, all pretenses to an interview thrown aside, as the other members practically leaned forward as though getting closer would get the answer sooner.

"He's often correct," Riddle said simply, crossing his legs, and placing his folded hand on top of his knee.

"Yes, yes, he was," Fudge spat, waving his hands, his face turning red now. "But, was he right about you?"

Riddle seemed to ponder that question, sitting still in his chair, and his head slightly askew. The Board Governors were completely silent as they awaited the answer, not a single person scribbled any notes, or moved. Harry worried his breathing might give him away, as his heart pounded in his chest, waiting to know what was going on. He was the only person that hadn't read the letter yet, but he had a clue as to what was in it. Somehow, it appeared that Dumbledore had hinted that Riddle could rival Voldemort in power.

"Mr. Thomason," began the witch with dark hair and patchwork hat, "I have a nephew in this school. He's seventeen, and has his whole life ahead of him. I need to know that Hogwarts will be defended."

"What's his name?" Riddle asked softly.

"Roger Davies," she answered, her voice beginning to shake. "He's a good boy. Bright. Sorted into Ravenclaw. He deserves to spend his last year in school safe, worrying about his NEWTS, not fearing for his life! He doesn't deserve that! None of these children do!" Tears were running down her cheeks.

Riddle waved his hand, producing a handkerchief, and handed it to the crying witch. She thanked him through her tears, the stubby witch tried to comfort her by rubbing her back, which was waved off. Many of the other Governors shifted uncomfortably at the display, more than a few looking close to their own break downs, while Fudge stared down at his own hands.

Riddle rose from his seat, moved towards the sobbing woman, and kneeled in front of her. He didn't utter a single word, instead he waited patiently for her face to emerge from her hands. When her cries started to die down, and she was taking deeper breathes through her nose, she looked up at him.

"Mr. Davies is a good student," Riddle started, as though only speaking to the woman in front of him, even as the others paused to listen. She nodded, sniffling into the handkerchief. Riddle continued, "He's kind, and thoughtful. His papers were always creative, as I would expect from any Ravenclaw. I would be proud of him, as I can see you are."

"I am," she said, wiping her tears, then more strongly. "I really am."

"Then, it would be my honor to protect him, along with the other students of Hogwarts," said Riddle with a slight smile. The witch looked at him in wonder, her hands wringing together as Riddle stood up. "Albus was correct. I can protect the school from Voldemort."

This time, no one gasped, or shouted. A few flinched, but many of the Governors also stood up with Riddle. They looked at Riddle like they had never seen him before, eyes wide, and gapping mouths. Fudge remained seated, as though standing would be too difficult with his legs shaking. His knuckles were white as they clenched his legs, and his breathing became sharp.

"Now, is there to be a test of my skills, or is the glowing recommendation good enough?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you!


	4. Dumbledore's Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I have a question from those in the Britain, or from the UK. I have tried to keep some Briticisms in this work, but since I am from USA, I worry I sound horribly fake when doing it. Can any of you offer any advice, or perhaps a website I might use to better my knowledge? Thanks!

Tom Riddle lead the twelve Hogwarts Board of Governors, the Minister of Magic, his assistant, and Harry Potter, who was under his visibility cloak through the hallways of Hogwarts. They crackled with anticipation for what was to come as the Governors muttered exchanged mutterings to one another behind the secrecy of their hands.  Harry felt almost giddy. He wasn’t sure how Riddle was supposed to demonstrate his skills without a wand, but he knew that whatever it would be, it was going to be impressive. They descended the great marble staircase and Riddle’s foot had barely met the first-floor McGonagall and Snape came around the corner. The pair halted, and a for moment the muttering of the Governors stopped.

“Minister,” McGonagall began, her eyes surveying everyone in the hall. Then, more slowly, “Governors.”

Snape had stopped short next to her, his dark eyes piercing Riddle, before turning to the rest of the group.

“Professors,” Fudge began, and only began because a white-haired wizard from within the Governors quickly pushed past him.

“Minerva, a pleasure as always,” he said, removing the pointed hat from his head to give a slight bow at McGonagall.  Several of the others snickered behind their hands at the man’s brazenness. Riddle peered over his shoulder at the man with scrutiny.

“Forney,” McGonagall said dismissively. 

“Oh, please, we’re old friends,” he replied “Call me Gregor.”

She ignored the reply, pointedly turned towards Riddle, who was still giving Forney the side eye. “I wasn’t aware of any meetings or visitors in the school today.” Riddle quickly broke from his distraction.

“Ah, yes,” Riddle stuttered. “They’re here to speak with me. It was called by the Minister himself, in fact.”

“Will you be going with us to the trial demonstration?” asked Forney, pushing past Riddle as he stepped down to McGonagall. “I’m sure we could use your expert opinion as well.” –As though just noticing Snape— “And you too, Professor Snake.”  

“ _Snape_.” Corrected the sneering professor with a hiss. “With a _P_. As in _pathetic_.”

Harry wasn’t the only one having to cover his mouth to prevent a laugh. Forney turned beet red, stuttering an apology, and clarifying again how he wanted them to join the trial. Many of the Governors nodded in agreement, a quiet murmur beginning, and Riddle’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, as he stepped forward around Forney. Harry had the strangest urge to push Forney away from McGonagall, but instead clutched at his cloak as he watched everyone. Snape observed the interactions in front of him, his lips thinned. He and McGonagall locked eyes for a moment, before McGonagall turned to Forney.

“May I ask, what exactly is it that Mr. Thomason is supposed to be demonstrating for the Hogwarts Board of Governors?” asked McGonagall. Before Forney could answer, Fudge now stepped down.

“It’s all very hush-hush. We’re still in the beginning of this whole thing,” Fudge interrupted, Harry was reminded of Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, when he puffed up. “We wouldn’t want to cause any misinformation, prior to a decision. Surely, you understand.”

“Even more reason to be direct, Minister,” chimed Riddle, clasping his hands, and looking to face McGonagall again. Almost like he was apologizing, he softy said, “They wanted to see if I might be a good fit as Headmaster.”

“Did they?” asked McGonagall, her eyebrow raising.               

Fudge opened his mouth, and closed it a few times, as though he wanted to chastise Riddle, but thought better of it. Instead, his ears burned almost purple, and Percy was standing behind him, writing furiously on his board. The Board Governors had the good grace to look ashamed, most of them avoiding McGonagall’s gaze. Even Forney, who had been so eager to greet her, now shuffled his feet, worrying at his hat.

“Well, I suppose since I am merely Deputy Headmistress my permission isn’t needed for these activities?” McGonagall straightened herself, her eyes carefully meeting those of each, and every Governor before settling on the Minister himself.

“Actually,” Fudge began faltering, “We would appreciate it if, uh, we could gain your permission to bring Aurors to the school for testing Mr. Thomason’s skills.”

“Permission granted for this limited time,” she responded tersely. “Though, in the future I would expect the Ministry will have learned to communicate their plans in advance.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” stammered Fudge, who was then once again pushed aside for the dark-haired witch, Roger Davies’s aunt.

“I would like to invite you both as well,” she said, walking down the stairs to where McGonagall and Snape stood. She gave a slightly tilt of the head towards them in respect. “Your opinions will matter as greatly as our own in judging his capabilities.”

“Do they?” asked McGonagall, though she clearly didn’t want an answer. Harry watched as she glanced at Snape, who had a look as if he had eaten something sour. “Strange how our opinions could hold such sway yet, this was only brought to our attention through sheer coincidence.” The dark-haired witch turned red. “Well, if we must, then let’s get this over with.”    

Without another word, she swept from the hallway, and Riddle made a move as though to stop her, but let his hand fall back to his side. Harry could see Riddle’s pinched expression as he watched McGonagall lead the way. Snape held a moment longer, before turning in a great flare of robes, towards the direction McGonagall left in.

Like everyone else, Riddle followed as they made their way out the oak doors and onto the Hogwarts grounds. It was luckily later in the day, and the sun was only an hour from setting, making the heat bearable even to Harry under the heavy cloak. The orange and yellow glow from the sun glared from the west, which made the Governors stand with their backs to the sun. Riddle bared the brunt of it, but stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back.

Almost out of consideration for her position, Fudge asked McGonagall to enchant a sickle into a portkey, allowing Percy to fetch Aurors for Riddle’s trial. Taking the coin, Percy ran to Hogsmeade as the protections of Hogwarts would not allow him to instantly travel.

Riddle stood patiently awaiting whatever they asked of him. Many of the Governors took to talking amongst themselves while they waited. The stubby witch pulled out her wand and conjured a chair to sit in and a bright orange umbrella to block out the sun. This idea caught on fast and soon all the Board Governors were sitting.

“Let’s start with the basics, shall we?” Fudge came forward, to stand next to Riddle, who was surrounded by the sitting Board Governors. “Can you perform all the N.E.W.T. level spells for Charm, and Defense?”

“I could,” Riddle answered, tilting his head ever so slightly. He held his hand in front of him, extending it palm up, and with a gesture, producing a goblet. “I shall use this, I think. Please, let me know when you wish me to stop, or request a spell.”

Almost despite themselves, a few of the Governors clapped at the magic performed in front of them. The stubby witch seemed to be the most enthusiastic of all, her feet dangling from her chair, and her hat askew from her clapping. Forney was more reserved, politely clapping but kept trying to catch McGonagall’s eye. Snape and McGonagall however, both had their arms crossed, with stern expressions.

Harry watched as Riddle went through charming the goblet to dance, invisibility transfigurations, and many other displays of magic; the goblet grew as tall as a man, then down to the size of a mouse, before sprouting wings, flying back up into Riddle’s awaiting hand. Some of the Governors might be having Riddle on, because they started requesting spells for him to perform. Instead of complaining, Riddle simply completed them without hesitation. Harry had to hold himself back from applauding at some of the spells, as even the stern dark-haired witch with the patchwork hat, now seemed to be smiling.

Just as Fudge was calling for another spell, a flushed looking Percy came jogging up the path from Hogsmeade to the grounds, followed by three very imposing wizards. Even at a distance, Harry could see a scar adorning the face of one, a slight loping gate to he neared. The other two were taller, but broad shouldered. One with brown skin, and shortly cut black hair, another with an almost tint of red to his skin, and a squared jawline. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if the two were taller than Riddle, and the smaller one wasn’t short either, nearly beating Percy in height. Percy came to a stop by the Minister clutching his clipboard, and quill.

“Robards, Proudfoot, and Savage have all agreed to come test out Mr. Thomason’s skill sir,” Percy said breathlessly, still flushed, and having a hard time catching his breath.

“I can see that, Mr. Weasley,” answered Fudge, walking up to the three men. He shook each of their hands, and introduced them to the group. The shorter one was Robards, the taller man with the short hair was Savage, and the other was Proudfoot.

From what Harry could tell, the Governors looked equally impressed with them, but McGonagall gave a tight smile, Snape looked indifferent, and Riddle merely nodded his head in their direction. Harry certainly thought the three looked like a challenge, but wasn’t concerned. Riddle had taken on several Death Eaters with seemingly ease. Harry doubted even these three could pose a challenge.

“Well, gentlemen, let’s get this started. We need to see real skill in our interviewee, Mr. Thomason here,” said Fudge, who seemed undaunted now that he was surrounded by Aurors. “Please step forward, and if there are no objections, we shall start the duel.”  

“Where is your wand?” asked Savage, not drawing his own wand yet, as he watched Riddle.

“Oh, I’m a Wandless Wizard, Mr. Savage. I shall duel the three of you without one today,” Riddle answered smoothly, his hands behind his back and rocking gently as he had taken up the habit of doing lately.

The three men paused in their preparation of this duel, and Fudge started coughing, as though he swallowed wrong. The Board Governors were buzzing once more, chatting behind hands, and once more the notes started to be scribbled. The only member who stood strong was the dark-haired witch, who kept a strict expression, and waited. McGonagall on the other hand, had her brows pinched, and kept glancing between the three Aurors, and Riddle. Snape, well, Harry wasn’t sure what that expression was, but he looked almost flushed like Percy after his run.

“I’ve never heard of a Wandless Wizard,” said Proudfoot, stepping up in front. The other two flanked him without any hesitation. Proudfoot pulled out his dark wooded wand, and stood in a proper dueling stance. “I’m eager to see what one can do.”

“I shall endeavor not to disappoint,” said Riddle, unclasping his hands, and waving one in the air. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the familiar crackling sound of Riddle’s shield charm surrounded the four men. Harry could hear the awed sounds of the Board Governors, and a quiet curse being whispered from Forney, who rose from his seat to inspect the silver shield.

“Marvelous,” Forney whispered, letting out a low whistle. “To think… wandless, Cornelius.”

“Yes,” Fudge said, swallowing thickly as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Quite impressive.”

Harry had been aware that Riddle’s casting was unusual, and powerful for quite some time, but he had become used to it over the year. Watching full-grown witches and wizards stare in wonder at the magic, made Harry feel warm in his chest. McGonagall, who no doubt knew of Riddle’s power, still was a bit wide-eyed at the display.

“Not bad,” said Proudfoot, smiling at the shield. “Encasement of a shield that far from your body is no easy feat even with a wand.”

“Don’t sound too impressed Proudfoot,” said Savage, now taking out his own wand, and smiling at Riddle with his teeth bared. “We’re supposed to be the impressive ones, remember?”

“I believe it should be one on one to start with,” said Robards, the shorter of the three who stood to Proudfoot’s right. His heavy brows practically covered his eyes, shading his part of his face from view. “Unless, you would like to start with more, Mr. Thomason?”

“I’m comfortable with one, two, or all three,” answered Riddle, tilting his head as he did so.

“You heard the man. Let’s go three,” said Proudfoot, tensing with his wand now pointing at Riddle’s chest. “I want to see if the rumors of his skills are true.”

“Fine by me,” replied Savage, readying himself.

“If any cannot continue, please drop your wand, and raise your hands,” said Robards, then looking at Riddle’s empty hands. “Or in Mr. Thomason’s case, just raise your hands over your head.” Then, pulling out his own wand, and getting into position just as it all started.

Harry barely had time to blink before three jets of light shot out from the ends of the Aurors’s wands straight at Riddle. Just as quickly, Riddle batted them away with the wave of his hand, and the streams hit the silver shield right in front of Forney, who leapt back. The spells splintered off, shooting like lightning around as they lost strength, and disappearing harmlessly when they met the ground.  Harry could tell the Aurors’s didn’t expect their attacks to be so neatly brushed off. Savage’s wand lowered slightly as his mouth slightly parted. An opening that Riddle took immediately, as an odd blue spell that flew light a bird to strike Savage right in the chest, knocking him backwards, and unconscious before his body even hit the ground. This caused the other two to charge forward.

Harry watched as Riddle deftly as he had in the Ministry, all their spells, as he came within grasp of Proudfoot. Riddle’s hand barely grazed the man’s shoulder, but he was flung into the shield a few meters away, falling to the ground with his wand escaping from his grasp. That only left Robards, who clenched his jaw, and raised his wand once more as Riddle stepped forward.

It was over within a minute. Robards dropped his wand with a sliced cut on his shoulder, and his hands in the air. Within a second, the shield dropped, and McGonagall ran in to inspect the fallen men.    

 “They should wake within a moment or two,” said Riddle, not even out of breath. “Mr. Savage was hit with a sleeping spell, and should be completely unharmed.”

“And what about Mr. Proudfoot? That was no sleeping spell,” said McGonagall.

“Stunner,” Riddle responded, “The shield wouldn’t have harmed him. He’ll be sore for a day or two, but no further harm.”

“Can’t say much for my shoulder, personally,” said Robards, shaking his head with a rueful smile on his face. “Not sure what you did in the past mate, but if you ever are looking for a job, do consider being an Auror. You may even put us out of a job.”

“I’m pleased with where I am,” answered Riddle, with an almost splitting smile on his face. Robards, and him shook hands, with many of the Governs applauding the two men. Harry shuffled closer to where the two Aurors lay, but just as promised, Proudfoot, and Savage both woke up a few moments later. The former being helped to his feet, and looking a bit ill.

“Did we lose?” asked Savage, his weight being supported by Proudfoot.

“Oh, terribly,” answered Proudfoot with a grave nod, but the corner of his lips twitched.

“Well, that’s a shame. Just my luck, only old Robards gets the scar to impress the lads with, too.”

“Some do have it all, Savage.” 

The Governors all shook Riddle’s hand, who looked less, and less comfortable with all the attention as time passed. He was able to call it to an end as the sun was almost completely set, and the stars were starting to shine in the sky. Fudge promised to have an answer for Riddle soon, and he lead the Governors towards Hogsmeade, leaving the school for now. Harry, McGonagall, Snape, and Riddle all made their way back into the school. McGonagall and Snape quickly parted ways with Riddle, both with sour expressions. Riddle bid them farewell, and headed towards the Great Hall. When Harry saw they were finally alone again, he took off his cloak, and beamed up at Riddle, who didn’t look the least bit surprised to see Harry appear.

“That was brilliant!” Harry exclaimed.

Riddle gave a smirk, before waving his hand, and their dinner appeared on the table. They both quickly sat down, and ate, chatting about the day. Flitwick joined them, carrying books stacked so high they blocked his view of the room. Riddle and Harry gathered them, and helped Flitwick seat himself at the table, all three now enjoying a conversation. Just as Flitwick was telling them about a new incantation that was supposed to allow even metal objects to bend at extreme angles without compromising the structure, an owl flew in.

“Post, at this hour?” Flitwick scoffed, pulling his plate closer to him, as the owl plopped down in front of Riddle.

“That was quick,” said Harry, watched with anticipation as Riddle took the letter from the bird. Instead of reading it right away, he tucked it into his robes. Harry’s eyes darted between the letter, and Riddle’s face. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

“After dinner,” responded Riddle, going back to his meal. “Reading it nor or later will not change the outcome of the letter, but it is rude to read when in company.”

“Spoken like a proper gentleman,” Flitwick nodded, raising his goblet in salute, but since he was so short, the bottom of his goblet was only a few inched above the table. Riddle still took his own, and lightly tapped it against Flitwick’s.

Harry gripped his fork, and resisted the urge to say something he might regret later. He stabbed his meal, ruefully taking a bite, remaining silent the rest of the meal while Riddle and Flitwick talked over a few spells. The dinner felt like it dragged on after that, and by the time Riddle and Harry were making their way to the third floor, Harry was all but leaping up the stairs. Riddle took the stairs a little quicker, noting Harry’s urgency, and they both gathered in the office.

“Can you read it now?” asked Harry, nearly bouncing on his toes.

“I can,” answered Riddle, taking out both letters he had stored away in his breast pocket. He handed the one Dumbledore wrote to Harry. “You should read this first.”

Harry paused for a moment, before unfolding the parchment and reading to himself.

_Dear Minister,_

_I know the name on the letter may come as a shock to you, and you can imagine my surprise to find this letter was needed. If you are reading this, I have met my end by the hands of Lord Voldemort or one of his followers. I dare say that I hope it is the latter, instead of the former, but I could not control without reason, the moment of my end._

_But this letter is not for a sad tale, or to linger on things that have already past. This is about the future of Hogwarts and the safety of the students. I’m sure by now that you are aware of Voldemort’s activities. While I never claim to hold any sway over his actions, I am sure you will agree that the school is at greater risk without my aid. That is why I hope you will forgive me for recommending a new Headmaster to Hogwarts._

_I had the pleasure meeting a man by the name of Magnus Thomason. You may have heard of him through your correspondence with Dolores Umbridge this year. He is a wizard unlike any other, and I do not use the phrase lightly. He has the capabilities of matching Voldemort in battle, and for assisting with his downfall, if he should find his way. He may be a bit brash, but his heart is in the right place, and I believe him to be the one best suited for the coming year._

_It has been a pleasure meeting every member of the Ministry, and working with the many bright minds that flourish within its halls. Please, take care, for all of you deserve better than the dark times that lay ahead._

_Sincerely Grateful,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Harry watched as a single tear dropped from his nose onto the parchment. Harry traced the signature that Dumbledore had left behind, before folding up the letter once more. He looked up to see Riddle leaning against his desk, and observing Harry.

“Doesn’t seem quite as glowing as the Governors would have us believe,” asked Riddle quietly.

“He did say your heart is in the right place,” offered Harry, wiping his face with the back of his hand, then walking over to Riddle. He joined him leaning against the desk. They stood side by side, only a few inches apart. “But, I get it. He’s more or less said only you could protect the school.”

“I’m afraid that might be true, despite the talent in the teachers here,” said Riddle, before sighing. The parchment from the Ministry in his hands, folded, and being twirled around in his hands. “You can imagine their decision.”

“You’re Headmaster,” said Harry, not really needing the nod from Riddle.

“They’ll inform the rest of the Professors in two days, and have my picture taken for the _Daily Prophet_ , if I accept,” said Riddle, his head falling back.

“And you will,” said Harry, his stomach knotting up. Instead of feeling happy about this outcome, Harry clenched his jaw, and fought back the trembling in his hands. “You’re going to have to face him, and his whole army next time, aren’t you?”  

Riddle didn’t need to be told who ‘he’ was.

“Most likely,” Riddle said, his brows pinched together in thought. “The hardest part is honestly knowing when he will attack. If I were him…” –Riddle shifted slightly— “I would attack the school this year. Not right away. Let everyone fall into a false sense of security. It’ll make more of an impact that way. You can only take away hope when it’s already there.”

Harry swallowed thickly, this throat clenching at the thought. If he didn’t know any better, Harry would think a Dementor might be near. Voldemort could attack any day this year.

“Will he attack during summer? When the school is weak to attacks?” asked Harry, not really wanting to know.

“No,” Riddle answered firmly, shaking his head. “It must be a significant date, something that really sticks in people’s heads. A day that all the students are here, along with the teachers. If he attacked during summer, then the ease of it would lessen his triumph. He’ll want it to be a challenge, so no one second guesses his power, and his victory.”

Harry pondered on it, thinking first of Christmas, but so many of the students left on Holiday then, meaning it wouldn’t fit the criteria. Harry felt himself tense, a prickle in his scar, and suddenly he knew when Voldemort would attack. It made the most sense, and it felt oddly right. As Riddle said, attacking any other day than this, would be lesser.

“Halloween,” whispered Harry, turning to look up at Riddle. “It’s the anniversary of my parent’s death. The day he fell from power.” –Harry licked his chapped lips— “Everyone will be here, and Dumbledore once said it was an important day to him. He’s going to attack on Halloween.”

“It’s a good theory…” Riddle started, then his eyes found Harry’s. He took a moment, as though reading something, before he said resolutely, “Halloween.” A sigh. “That leaves me with four months. I’ll need to do some research.”  

They spent the rest of the evening in quiet contemplation. Riddle pulled out a few books from his shelves, pouring over notes, and articles. Harry sat on the couch that was conjured the day before, and pressed his forehead against the cool stone. Ever since he named the date of Voldemort’s attack, his scar had been in dull pain. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last few months had been. Harry had barely noticed the lack of activity in his scar since leaving his aunt’s, until it acted up again. Harry was only disturbed from his thoughts once when Riddle brought him a cup of tea, before returning to his notes.

The next morning Harry left Riddle in the office, as he had started pouring over his books first thing. Harry was barely finished with dressing when Riddle came into the office from his bedroom, fully dressed, and already spotted with ink from writing.

Harry let out a yawn on his way into the Great Hall, where a warm breakfast would be waiting. Harry could have taken it in the office with Riddle, but he didn’t want to be in the way. He wasn’t the best at research, and Riddle was moving so quickly through the books, Harry doubted there was much he could contribute. He did know that breakfast was probably going to be interesting without Riddle around in the Great Hall this time.

Like before, Hagrid, and McGonagall, were gathered at the end of Slytherin’s table but this time Flitwick and Snape were missing. Harry was starting to enjoy the short professor’s presence during meals, but was rather glad Snape wasn’t there. Even when he didn’t speak, Harry still felt like he was itching to say something nasty, and that made it almost worse. Harry was surprised to see Professor Sprout was there. Harry could see the dirt stains on her clothes even from the entrance, and she was cooing at a plant she had at the table, wiggling her finger at the vines.

“Harry!” called Hagrid, smiling at him. Harry quickly moved in, sitting next to Hagrid, and nodding towards McGonagall, and Sprout who greeted him. “McGonagall’s been telling us yer not staying in the Gryffindor rooms?”

“Oh,” said Harry, his cheeks feeling warm. He didn’t expect to have to answer that so soon, but he figured Hagrid deserved to know he was safe. “I didn’t want to be alone, so… ”

“I understand,” Hagrid said at once, his large hand patting Harry on the back, and a sad expression. “Can’t blame ya one bit. Bein’ alone ain’t good fer no one these days.”

“You’ve been staying with Professor Thomason?” asked McGonagall.

“Yes,” answered Harry, keeping his eyes down on his plate that was being filled by Hagrid with some eggs, and bacon. “He um… conjured a couch for me in his office. It’s nice.”

“Very nice of him, offerin’ to keep you safe,” Hagrid said, now filling Harry’s goblet as well. “He’s seems a decent fella when you get past his odd twitches. Nervous, ain’t he?”

“He’s just uncomfortable with people is all,” said Harry, trying to figure out a polite way to tell Hagrid there was no way he could eat everything piled on his plate.

“That’s one way to put it,” said McGonagall, turning over to Sprout, who was feeding some of the ham to a vicious looking potted plant she had beside her. “Do you really have to bring it to the table, Pomona?”

“It’s too young to leave in the greenhouse,” Sprout answered, not even glancing at the others, as the plant grabbed the piece of ham she was dangling over it with a snap. Sprout looked as happy as a new mother feeding a babe. “But, in a fortnight, it should be grown enough to leave there during meals. It’s already doubled in just a week!”

Harry tried to eat as much as he could to please Hagrid but had to scoop some of it off when another professor distracted Hagrid. Harry even fed some of the meat to the plant Sprout had brought with her, letting it gobble up a few bites, before it refused anymore. When Harry began to have serious concerns about taking another bite, the rest left his plate vanished, and Harry looked up in confusion until McGonagall gave him a slight wink. He also made a promise to come visit Hagrid in his hut that evening for tea, and with a stern look from McGonagall, promised to bring Thomason with him as an escort. Sprout took her plant, which burped when it was lifted, and left the Great Hall.

Harry took that as an escape, and left as well, heading back up to the office with little else to occupy his mind with. He doubted Riddle was going to have any lessons for him this time, and when Riddle only made a vague sound in his throat in acknowledgement that Harry was back, it seemed his suspicions were correct. Riddle only took another few minutes writing out a few notes, before snapping his book closed, and standing.

“Are you ready to practice again?”

Harry looked up from his position on the couch, and smiled.     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story please leave a comment and/or Kudos


	5. Breakfast at the Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am still looking for Beta Readers on this story. If you could like to volunteer, please send me a PM. Thank you!

Harry awoke to the sounds of someone moving around the room. Harry squinted open his eyes, seeing a dark blob moving towards the door, and quietly opening the door. Harry reached over and grabbed his glasses, blinking away the sleep, just as Riddle carefully, and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving the office. Harry debated on going back to sleep, assuming Riddle was probably running to the library to fetch another book, when his curiosity got the better of him.

He moved over to the side, slipping on his shoes, and throwing his cloak over himself. He quickly looked through his trunk, finding the Marauder’s map, tapping it to show where Riddle had gone to. He followed the footsteps on the map, up the stairs, and around the corner, all the way to the stone gargoyle outside the Headmaster’s office. Harry was going to leave, thinking Riddle was just going to head in to talk to Dumbledore’s portrait some more, when he instead, just stood outside the office, looking intently at the gargoyle.

Harry watched him for a few minutes, as Riddle didn’t make any motions to try to go in, or leave. Instead, he fidgeted, running a hand through his hair, and his eyes squinting at the gargoyle. He didn’t utter a single word, no attempt at a password, just kept taking deep breaths like he intended to say something, before huffing, then pacing back and forth.

Harry took a step forward, removing part of the cloak to reveal himself. Riddle’s eyes instantly darted to him, his hand twitching, before he relaxed.

“Ah, Harry,” he said with his silky voice. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I could ask the same,” said Harry, moving to stand beside Riddle.

“Well… I…,” Riddle stammered, then he sighed, his shoulders slumped. “I was working up the courage to assign a password to the Headmaster’s office, before the reporters came tomorrow, but… I can’t seem to do it.”

“Why not?”

“If I do, then I must acknowledge my role, that Albus… isn’t Headmaster anymore,” Riddle grimaced. “and if the gargoyle doesn’t accept my password, that means… the school doesn’t accept me. I’m not sure which would be worse.”

Harry watched his face, twisted into a mixture of sorrow, and worry. Even in the low torch light, the furrowed brow, and pale complexion were easy to spot. Harry bite his lip for a second, worrying it between his teeth, before he stepped forward, putting his hand on Riddle’s shoulder.

“You should try it,” said Harry, offering a smile. “Dumbledore picked you. If that’s not good enough for Hogwarts, then no one is good enough.”

Harry, trying to keep a positive expression, and Riddle’s slight disbelief. Harry won though, as Riddle sighed lightly, straightened himself, and approached the gargoyle.

“I’m Headmaster of Hogwarts. The new password is… Milly,” said Riddle, sounding far more confident than he looked, and Harry glanced at him from the corner of his eye, wondering who Milly was.

For just a moment, nothing happened as both Harry and Riddle waited anxiously. Then, as it always had when McGonagall or Dumbledore lead him to the office, stone gargoyle sprung to life, but this time it bowed its head to Riddle, and moved aside to allow entrance to the ascending staircase. Harry and Riddle watched on as it continued to spiral upwards, before they both stepped on the stairs, and went up to the office.  

The next morning, Harry sat under his invisibility cloak in the corner of the Headmaster’s office watching the various Headmasters in their portraits move into each other’s frames, trying to get into the picture of the _Daily Prophet_. Dumbledore now had several of the other Headmasters shoved into his portrait, which hung right behind the desk, as they looked out at the reporters. Dumbledore didn’t appear to mind in the least, shuffling around to fit them, and even having his arm around Armando Dippet in his frame.

Riddle stood in the middle of a gaggle of people, all attempting to ask him questions in such a rapid succession that Harry doubted even Rita Skeeter could keep up with. Though, to be honest, Harry was glad his name wasn’t brought up much in the commotion. Every time it did, Riddle would give a very vague answer that he would be glad to keep Harry along with the rest of the students safe this year. Harry was ready to leave the room but with the reporters crammed in, he couldn’t leave without bumping into someone on his escape.

A flash of light from the camera as Riddle blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. Harry had to cover his mouth, as he watched Riddle frown at the spots he no doubt had swimming in front of him from the bulb. Harry had been on the receiving end of those cameras often enough to know what it was like.

The rest of the day was taken up by interviews with the _Prophet_ , the Ministry, and a group of Aurors. The same day Riddle was named Headmaster, Fudge was also sacked as Minister. Even though naming Riddle as Headmaster was Fudge’s last try to retain his position of power, the public wasn’t forgiving of his actions for the past year. Harry couldn’t say with sincerity that he was sad to see Fudge go, but he wondered about the new Minister.

Rufus Scrimgeour, who Harry had only heard of once before by Tonks, reminded Harry of a lion with his bushy, golden hair. Scrimgeour ordered Aurors to be stationed at Hogwarts for the following year, and chose several candidates for Riddle to choose from. Harry was happy to see Proudfoot, and Savage, who were both healed up and smirking, amongst the group. Riddle easily chose those two, and they both looked equally elated to be chosen. Harry could hear them muttering about a rematch while their pictures were taken for the _Prophet_. When the new Minister left, Proudfoot and Savage remained just outside the entry doors to the school, as Riddle continued the rest of his first official day as Headmaster. Harry continued to follow under his cloak, and keeping out of sight.

Harry noticed McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick all had refused to comment on what they thought of the new Headmaster. Harry had several ideas of what the Potion’s master thought of the arrangement. McGonagall took it with stride, merely carrying on her day as though nothing were different, despite the reporters trying hard to get her to answer their questions. Harry supposed she had a great deal more to worry about than who was Headmaster, though he did wonder if she was disappointed that she didn’t even get an interview. Flitwick was busy packing to head to a cabin for holiday, and made himself scarce for the reporters buzzing around.

Harry had seen the reporters going down the Hagrid’s hut during lunch, but coming back not a few minutes later. Harry supposed Hagrid was probably feeding the blast-ended skrewts but the singed look to their robes. The two reporters that went to the Greenhouse came back almost as quickly, but significantly in better shape.

It took until well after dinner when Riddle was free from the reporters, and came shuffling into the office. Harry was sat on the couch with the _Defense_ _for the Skilled Wizard_ book open in his lap and his cloak laying at his side. Harry looked up to see Riddle with is shoulders slumped, his normally kept hair falling into his face, and his feet barely picking up from the ground.

“Rough day?” asked Harry.

“If I’m asked one more question from another reporter, I may just hex them, and be done with it,” Riddle muttered darkly, all but collapsing into his chair, a hand coming up to massage his temples. “Why is it important to know my favorite color, and what creature I find more pleasing to keep as a pet?”

“People just want to get to know you,” said Harry, marking his place in the book, before closing it. “Even if the questions are stupid, at least they aren’t badgering you about what to do with Voldemort.”

“Yes, that would have at least been productive. I could make him think I’m barmy, and really get an advantage,” Riddle responded, then sighed, and let his head fall back onto his chair’s backing. “I hope that tomorrow will be less trying.”

“I doubt it. After my interview, I got loads of mail,” quipped Harry, watching the look of dread slowly fall over Riddle’s face. “I suggest getting others to help.”

“Right…” Riddle said, rubbing his face a few times. “I’m off to bed. We’ll resume our lessons tomorrow if I don’t hex myself out of a job by then.”

“Cheers,” called Harry, watching Riddle’s back disappear into his room, with a smile. Harry did feel bad about Riddle having to deal with all the reporters, and soon the mail, but he had to admit it was good not being the center of the attention. Harry learned in his fourth year exactly how the press could turn on anyone, and in his fifth year, how little Harry wanted to be part of any of it.

He was also completely correct about the post as well, watching the slow paling of Riddle’s face as he watched owl after owl swoop in front of him, all with letters, at breakfast. Harry and Riddle shuffled through them, barely able to get the letter from one owl, before another barged its way to try to get their letter in. Harry had to save more than a few letters from going onto the food plate, some already stained when McGonagall finally took pity on them, assisting with sorting them. Even with her assistance, they still needed Hagrid to come in, and get the owls managed, and it became so bad at one point that Snape joined in, flicking his wand at the mess and clearing it up, just so he could eat his own breakfast. Snape left as soon as he was finished, his nose curling up at the sheer number of owls scattered on the Slytherin table.

It took the three of them the better part of the morning to sort it all. McGonagall took the stack for herself, informing Riddle that they would have to meet and go over school plans for the year. Riddle stuttered his way into a date and time for the meeting with her, still eyeing the large stack of mail that was still growing as a few owls still swooped in to drop off their own.

“If you ever leave, Minerva please be merciful and end me,” muttered Riddle, as he opened another letter, from another concerned parent.   

“It gets easier once the shock of it wears off,” McGonagall said smartly, charming the new letters to arrange themselves into neat piles to be taken care of. She stood up, and with a snap, the letters she had chosen to take all sprung to attention.

“I’ll sort through this lot, and I expect to see you finished with your own. I’ll see you at dinner,” McGonagall stated, before turning on her heel, and marching to her office. A third of the letters floated behind her, reminding Harry of baby chicks following a mum.  

Harry looked over at Riddle, who’s gaze lingered on McGonagall’s trailing figure, before he blinked as though coming out of a trance, and turning to Harry.

“Well… letters first, then we shall continue your lessons?” Riddle asked distractedly.

“Yeah,” answered Harry, wondering what that was all about with McGonagall, and then smiled up at the distracted man. “Let’s go.”

The next two weeks were spent sorting through letters, many of which were just concerned parents, and a few from the Ministry. The most interesting one were the admirers who sent flower scented letters to Riddle, who snatched them quickly from the pile before Harry or McGonagall could open them. There even was what looked to be a pair of lady’s knickers received one day.

A great horned owl came flying in, fat, and missing a few tail feathers with the knickers clutched in its talons. All three of them paused and looked up as it circled a few times. The owl didn’t even stop, just released the fabric, letting them flutter down to the table, and all three of them watched in various degrees of horror, as frilly pink knickers softly landed on the pile of untouched envelopes. There was exactly three seconds of silence, before Riddle turned a shocking shade of red, McGonagall’s mouth thinned, and Harry fell out of his chair laughing so hard, he bumped his head on the stone floor, but didn’t stop until minutes later.

McGonagall had stormed out that time, telling them she had more important things to do than deal with ridiculous pranks. But, for every letter sent with flowers, declarations of love, there were thirty serious inquires. The letters Harry could help with were mostly parent letters, but a few really got to him.

Roger Davies’ aunt wasn’t the only one considering the danger every student faced this year. Many parents were requesting extended leave from school or withdrawing their children. Harry wanted to write back and tell him there was no place safer than Hogwarts, but Riddle didn’t want him to. Instead, those letters went into a pile, that Riddle answered personally. Harry had to admit, Riddle was catching on fast to being Headmaster, and soon he didn’t even need Harry to help him sort his mail. Which left them with their non-verbal spell lessons, which didn’t seem to be going any better than the first one, and dinners with the teachers of Hogwarts.

Flitwick had left the following day after Riddle’s announcement as Headmaster, and Sprout had returned to her Greenhouse more often to tend to her plants she was growing for school year studies. Snape would join in some meals, usually growing quiet when Riddle approached. Harry would find Snape a few times roaming the halls, at seemingly random times through the day, and night. Harry wondered if it was him trying to make sure someone was protecting Harry always, or it Snape was spying on him. Either way, Harry didn’t appreciate his few times being alone were interrupted by the potion’s master. Harry was lucky that Riddle usually showed up before Snape would approach him, taking Harry away to a lesson or for a meal. After the third time of that happening, Harry started watching the map to avoid him, and using his invisibility cloak more often when roaming the halls.

Harry wasn’t even aware that Madam Pince had returned to Hogwarts until she crept out one day from the library during lunch, before returning to her books once she spotted Harry. He got the feeling she worried with a student around, Harry might go in the library, and dare to destroy all her books. He didn’t see why this would be true as he now slept in an office filled with books every night. Harry didn’t ask to return to Gryffindor’s tower, and Riddle never mentioned it, so their arrangement stuck. Though, Harry moved into the bedroom now, and Riddle took the couch, since he stayed up late doing paperwork at his desk often.

The morning Harry was leaving Hogwarts to spend the rest of his summer at the Burrow was filled with mixed emotions for him. He had enjoyed his stay at Hogwarts, being able to roam the halls by himself, and explore areas to his heart’s content without worrying about someone popping up to question him. On the other hand, the nearly empty meals, lack of anyone to talk to when Riddle was busy with all his new duties as Headmaster, and leaving only teachers to speak to, was getting a bit of his nerves. It was loads better than being at Privet Drive, but gave Harry a different sort of longing.

Harry had packed up his things in the empty office, since Riddle was staying late in the Headmaster’s office with McGonagall to get all his work done, and was waiting at the entry hall by the oak doors for Riddle to escort him. Hedwig, along with Harry’s school trunk had been sent ahead the night before. Riddle came down the marble stairs in a flourish of midnight blue robes that were embroidered with glimmering silver stitching, as he quickly stepped down towards Harry. His face slightly flushed as he approached with a smile.

“I see I made it a little late,” said Riddle with a huff.

“Only a little,” responded Harry, though he had been down in the entry for at least twenty minutes. His stomach was tying itself in knots, and he wasn’t sure if it was in excitement, worry, or the fact that he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Let’s be off,” said Riddle moving forward and pushing open the oak doors. Harry had to squint against the bright sun as he gathering his bag.

They walked through Hogwarts’s grounds, passing Hagrid’s hut in the distance, and the Greenhouse of Professor Sprout. They had just stepped near Hogmeade, Harry already able to see the sign for the little village, when Riddle offered his arm. Even though Harry had braced himself for Apparition, he still found it unpleasant. When the pressure disappeared, and Harry found his breath once more, he was standing in a country lane beside Riddle and looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of his second favorite building in the world: The Burrow.  Despite the knotting in his stomach prior, his spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it.

After they entered the gate leading into the yard, Harry felt Riddle stop him short with a hand on his shoulder.

“I have a few things to discuss before I leave you here,” said Riddle, his hand returning.

“Leave me?” asked Harry with a frown. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment that Riddle would have to return to Hogwarts for his new duties. For a second Harry wanted to ask to return, to stay with him, before his nose caught the whiff of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, reminding him that his friends were in there.

“Unfortunately,” began Riddle, tilting his head down. “You are safe here, and I shall visit on the weekends, I promise.”

“I understand,” muttered Harry, feeling his cheeks burn as he thought of children he had seen begging for their parents to stay before their first day at school. “It’s alright.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Riddle, both of his hands now gripping at either of Harry’s shoulders. Harry looked up at him, their eyes connecting, and for the first time in a long time, no pain appeared in his scar. Harry could see the bright blue, with specks of yellow in Riddle’s eyes now. “I made a promise by becoming your legal guardian, to always be there for you. I shouldn’t leave you here, even though I know it’s what is best for you, as you know it is as well. It’s the reason you answered Minerva with the Burrow instead of Hogwarts. Your friends are here, and you need them more than a ratty old professor.”

“You’re not a ratty old professor.”

“Don’t let the clothes fool you,” quipped Riddle, patting Harry’s shoulder once before releasing him. “Now, keep your cloak on you always, even here, and Hogwarts. We’ll continue our lessons in private, and extend them to a few other things as well.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, a few things you might find useful,” answered Riddle with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Am I going to continue lessons in Occlumency?” asked Harry, gripping his bag.

“I think – we might focus on other areas you haven’t explored yet,” Riddle slowly said. “I would like to help you close your mind a tad better from him, but you’ve made vast improvements which cannot be overstated. I believe you are now completely capable of telling his lies, from his truths.”

“Something I wish I learned sooner,” mutter Harry, ducking his head from sight, as an ache he had become familiar with ran through his chest.

“You cannot blame yourself for being tricked by the most powerful dark wizard of history, Harry,” said Riddle, lowering himself to be in Harry’s vision. Once he saw Harry not diverting his eyes, “Everyone gets fooled by him at least once. I fear even I would be fooled. Just remember, he cannot play the same trick twice on you. You’ve learned too fast, and he’s running out of options, while you’re gaining more. We can beat him.”

Harry nodded, still his vision blurry from the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes and fog up his glasses. Riddle moved his hand to Harry’s back, guiding him towards the Burrow and his friends. They approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons. Riddle raised his hand and rasped his knuckles three times on the door, just as Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

“Who’s there?” said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley’s. “Declare yourself!”

“It’s Thomason, bringing Harry.”

The door opened at once to reveal Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing gown. Her red hair tied into a top knot, with strands sticking out in complete disorder.

“Harry, dear! Gracious, Magnus, you gave me a fright,” she said, ushering both into the warm home. She grabbed Harry and quickly gave him a hug. While Harry felt his ears grow hot, he embraced her back just as fiercely.

“We were lucky enough to find a good time to leave without any troubles,” Riddle said, looking around the kitchen. “Ah, hello Tonks.”

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the early morning hour. A young witch with a pale, heart shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a steaming mug between her hands. She attempted a smile, but it fell quickly.

“Hello, Professor,” she said. “Wotcher, Harry.”

“Hi, Tonks.”

Harry thought she looked a bit drawn, as though she were stretched too thin, and missing her usual colorful hair. He was about to ask how she was, when Riddle clasped his hands together.

“I’d better be off before Minerva thinks I’m slacking,” Riddle said, offering a smile to Harry, and nodding towards a stern looking Mrs. Weasley.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley said, grabbing Riddle by his shoulder, and then pushing him into a chair at the table. Riddle went without complaint, though his eyebrows rose. She sat him down at a chair across from Tonks, who did smile this time behind her mug, as she watched Riddle get manhandled by the plump witch. “I’m sure the school has you busy as a bee, but a break with some home cooked food would do you well. You’re much too thin.”

Harry was hiding his laughter by coughing into his hand, his ears burning when Riddle shot him a look.

“You too, Harry. I’ll not have unfed people in my house,” Mrs. Weasley said, putting Harry at the chair next to Riddle. “It’s time everyone wakes up anyways. They’ll want to be down stairs before their father gets home.”

 Mrs. Weasley made her way out of the room, and up the stairs to call everyone to the table. Harry, Riddle, and Tonks all looked at each other, hiding smiles as they could hear the grumbling of the others. The table in front of them, which usually held a modest amount of food for the large family, was now covered in plates, almost overflowing with food. Harry wondered if Fred and George were here as well, since both could eat like Ron, and if their brother Bill and Charlie were here. Harry looked up at the ceiling as a distinct complaint was heard through the house, as Ron stumbled to his feet. It wasn’t long everyone made their way down stairs and to the table.

Ron sat on Harry’s other side, both boys greeting at each other with wide smiles, while Ginny gave Harry a bit of a wave then sat next to Tonks. Moody sat where Fred was normally seated, and two others joined in that Harry wasn’t aware of were here. Bill Weasley came in looking dashing as ever, and was immediately outshined by the beautiful Fleur, who seemed to glide at his side, both beaming at each other. Harry could see Ginny’s button nose scrunch up at the pair, shoving a bit of her breakfast into her mouth as though to stop herself from saying something rude. Mrs. Weasley watched the pair, her eye twitching ever so slightly, before moving along to put more food at the already filled table. Ron stared after Fleur, his cup missing his mouth slightly, and some of the liquid pouring into his lap.

It wasn’t long before everyone greeted Harry and Riddle. Mrs. Weasley did appear to be friendly with Riddle though, calling him Magnus, much to Harry’s surprise. Bill and Fleur the only members who had to be introduced to Riddle. He wasn’t aware that the Weasleys and Riddle had much contact. He was also surprised to see how Tonks and Riddle carried on like old friends, both talking about Riddle’s recent promotion, when Mrs. Weasley joined in.  

“It’s all very exciting, Arthur getting a promotion, that bit of business Fred and George have going, and you’re Headmaster now,” Mrs. Weasley said, sitting at the head of the table. Harry noticed she didn’t mention Percy. She waved her wand and a bit of bread sliced itself, and moving to each of their plates. Riddle grabbed one, and slathered it in honey.

“Oh, it could be expected of Arthur to get recognition, but me? That was a bit of a shock,” Riddle answered, then took a bite of his bread. Harry wondered if he was going to be able to sleep with that much sugar in his system now, as Riddle’s eyes closed in pleasure.

“Nonsense. Arthur told me about your duel with the Aurors, it’s gone around the whole Ministry by now, and I’m more surprised that you’ve been so scarce before this last year than you getting Headmaster,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking quite happy about it. She tutted at Ginny for not taking a bit of bread for herself. “No crazy diets for you, young lady.” Mrs. Weasley piled on some bacon and bread onto Ginny’s plate. Then she turned back to Riddle. “Are you and Harry faring well?”

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” answered Riddle, before shoving in a bit of bacon into his mouth. He was eating like a starving man, and Harry could understand. Nothing quite beat Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. Not even Hogwarts. Riddle barely finished swallowing when, “This is lovely, Molly.”

She smiled, then looked over at Harry, waiting for him to reply.

“Oh, I’m doing well, thanks,” answered Harry, nibbling on a bit of toast. “And I agree. Your cooking’s brilliant.”

 “Mum’s loads better at cooking than anyone else,” Ron said with his mouth full of food. At least, that’s what Harry thought he said but it was difficult to tell. Even though Mrs. Weasley chided him for talking with his mouth full, she still beamed at the compliments that went around the table after that, though Harry could see she was less enthused when Fleur complimented her.

“Breakfast is fine,” Moody started, the only one having tea, and toast for breakfast. “But, what of security at the school this year.”

“I won’t have this sort of talk at my table, Alastor,” Mrs. Weasley reproached sharply, glaring at the man.

“Not wanting to hear it, doesn’t make it any less important. Everyone here needs to know how important constant vigilance is,” he said, then turned over to Riddle. Everyone paused in their breakfast, and Mrs. Weasley looked distraught that her nice meal was interrupted.

“I agree. Proudfoot and Savage are going to be posted at the school, and I’m making a schedule for patrol,” answered Riddle, still piling on food at his plate, looking unconcerned at the talk, or the stricken expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face. “I’ve also been researching protective charms for the school along with Minerva. She’s quite adept at protective magic.”

“Good start, but you’ve got a long way to go to prevent Death Eaters from accessing the grounds,” said Moody, nodding. “Proudfoot and Savage are good men. Two of the toughest they got if not a bit full of themselves. How did you manage to get them?”

“I beat them in a duel, and they were impressed. Keep saying how they want a rematch,” Riddle answered, before taking another bite of his toast. Moody and Tonks both eyed Riddle, who seemed oblivious. He made a pleasing sound in his throat before turning to a flushed Mrs. Weasley. “This really is delicious Molly. I’m most certainly coming over for breakfast on the weekends, if you don’t mind my intrusion.”

“Not at all,” muttered a flustered Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks dotted with red spots.  

Moody and Riddle continued talking about the security of the school, with Tonks chiming in with a few pieces of advice. Harry had a hard time keeping up when they made it to anti-flying jinxes, and wards. Mrs. Weasley kept side-eyeing them, her mouth thinning as if she wanted to say something, but Riddle would always interrupt with compliments, which made her blush.

Ginny was busy making faces behind Fleur’s back, many of which made Harry shove scrambled eggs into his mouth to avoid laughing, as Fleur and Bill chatted quietly with one another. Ginny only stopped when Mrs. Weasley caught her out the corner of her eye.

“They’re getting married,” said Ron in a whisper to Harry.

“Who? Fleur and Bill?”

“Yea, I was just as surprised. It’s all they talk about now. Wedding this, wedding that,” Ron said, stabbing at his food. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Stuck at my aunt and uncle’s, then Riddle came and got me about two weeks ago,” said Harry, tucking in his own breakfast, which made Mrs. Weasley smile. “We’ve been at Hogwarts since then.”

“Come off it,” said Ron loudly, turning in his seat to look at Harry, his brows raised. “You’ve been hiding right under the Minister’s nose this whole time?”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry with a frown. He certainly had been under his cloak a lot these last two weeks any time someone came around, but Harry thought that was to avoid Snape and reporters, not the Minister.

“Haven’t you been reading the _Daily Prophet_?” asked Ginny, who stopped making faces to join in the conversation. “They’ve been going on and on about you recently, calling you the “chosen one” or some other rubbish. No one seemed to know where you were, not even us, but mum and dad did. Said you were safe, and keeping your head down.”

“It was for protection,” Riddle said, before he sipped at his tea. The adults now paying attention to the three of them chatting. “If the _Prophet_ or the Minister knew where you are then the Death Eaters would know. They have spies everywhere these days.”

“Makes sense,” said Harry, slowly nodding. “But you could have told me I was supposed to be hiding. I’ve gone down to Hagrid’s twice, nearly missing reporters sometimes.”

“I could, but you rather did it on your own, so I thought not to worry you,” answered Riddle, nudging Harry with his elbow to get a smile. Harry tried, but he was about to protest not being told something, when Riddle continued. “Besides, I escorted you each time. I wouldn’t let them see you.”

“Yea, if we knew you were at Hogwarts, we’d have felt better about it all,” Ron said, grabbing a bit of baked beans for himself. “I’m just glad it wasn’t somewhere with your relatives, but Scrimgeour has come around a few times asking about you. Figuring you must be staying with us.” Ron looked up at his mother with a proud smirk. “Mum threw him out last time, didn’t you mum?”

“I did no such thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, her round cheeks becoming red, and hastily offering Riddle some more food. Riddle had the good grace to appear like he hadn’t heard the last bit, thanking Mrs. Weasley for the offer, and allowing her to fill his plate.

Her eyes looked over at the large clock that hung skewed on the wall, that had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member. Harry noted it had been moved from the family room to here, and looked like it was moved quite often. Every single one of its nine hands were now pointing at “mortal peril”.

“It’s been like that for a while now,” said Mrs. Weasley, in an unconvincingly casual voice when she noticed Harry looking, “ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. Though, I suppose everybody’s in mortal danger now…”

“Everyone is,” Moody said darkly, grimacing a he moved forward to the table. Harry noticed the limp, but Moody caught his eye, and shook his head sharply. “We can have all the nice meals we want but that doesn’t change what’s happening. What with Death Eaters going around, people looking for a reason just to start trouble, and the whole lot at the Ministry not doing a bit of good towards fixing anything.” –a stern look directed at him by Mrs. Weasley— “Except your Arthur.”

Just as soon as Mood said his name, the hand on the clock labeled with Arthur’s name, ticked off to “traveling”, and Mrs. Weasley jumped up from the table to go to the back door. Everyone watched and listened in on Mr. Weasley convincing his wife to ask their assigned secret questions. Mrs. Weasley stepped away from the door with a red face, shuffling her hands through her apron, while Mr. Weasley came in with a smile.

“Hello Weasley family, and our many guests,” he said with a wide smile, coming in and dropping his hat off on the rack. He gave a peck on Mrs. Weasley’s cheek, before coming over to the table and dropping off a suitcase next to a chair he sat down in. Mrs. Weasley fretted a bit, before coming over and joining her husband at the table.

“Where’d you run off to so early?” asked Ginny.

“Diagon Alley,” he answered, starting to fill his plate already. Just then Harry noticed the case he brought back with him, which was sat by his leg. “Grabbing some things for us, and work had me inspect another place.”

“Not another vandalism,” Mrs. Weasley uttered in frustration, she scooped some baked beans onto her husband’s plate, some of it missing with the force she put into it. “The way things are going, there won’t be a place left for anyone to shop at. You’d think they’d realize this isn’t helping their cause at all. They’ll be just as devastated as us if all the shops close!”

“I know Molly,” said Mr. Weasley, his hand gently touching hers, as she piled on more food. She merely jerked her hand away, then set about to fix more plates. Everyone had stopped eating at this point, everyone shifting uncomfortably.  

“No one likes what’s happening,” grunted Moody. 

“It’s not right,” Mrs. Weasley continued, blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Don’t they realize every shop owners’ got family? They are ruining the lives of innocent people, not even doing anything against them.” Mrs. Weasley wrung her hands together. “Why, I have half a mind to go to Diagon Alley myself to sort some of this mess out!”

“Fred and George are safe as can be now, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley, and at that moment Harry realized their shop was in Diagon Alley, where many of the attacks against businesses were. “Now, let’s stop worrying about all that, and have ourselves a nice meal.”

“How can we do that, when Alastor insists on talking about security, you come home all bruised from your work, and my boys are out there where those monsters are attacking innocent people!” Mrs. Weasley cried, her fists slamming on the table, causing some of the plates to rattle. “And Percy… oh Merlin, my _Percival…_ ”

Ron and Ginny both backed up from the table, wide eyed. Fleur muttered something in French, all but leaping into Bill’s arms, who looked stricken. Tonks held her mug to her chest, her hair turning a shocking blonde, and both of Moody’s eyes looked away. Mr. Weasley was already gathering his wife into his arms as she started to sob. Harry felt his own neck warm, putting down his fork as he lost his appetite, and he looked over at Riddle.

Riddle sat perfectly still, watching the couple, and his lips thin. Harry’s scar gave a twinge of pain, and following it was the sensation like a cold stone was dropped in his stomach. Even though nothing on Riddle’s face gave him away, Harry could feel his fury at Mrs. Weasley’s despair. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment and/or kudos! Thank you!


	6. Kreacher and Sirius

 

The next few moments were spent in a sort of suspended state where everyone was quiet, even Ron. It took until Riddle stood up from the table before Mrs. Weasley composed herself, turning to him. Riddle complimented the meal, and took Mrs. Weasley’s hand, and gave it a kiss, causing her to let out a little gasp. Fleur even put a hand to her lips, and whipped her head to Bill “’Ee is such a gentleman!”

“I’ll keep the children safe at school,” he said in his silky voice, then tipped his head towards Mr. Weasley, who stood there shocked. Without waiting for a response from anyone, he turned on his heel and walked away. Everyone’s head turned to follow him out the door, and disappearing into the air after he left the gate.

“What an interesting man,” muttered Arthur, then hooked his arms around Mrs. Weasley, in a hug. “We’ll get through this, Molly. We always do.”

“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Weasley, patting her husband’s hands that were wrapped around her plump frame. She gave a watery smile, before he released her. She took a deep breath, “Let’s get these plates taken care of. Ginny dear, come help me clear the table.”

Ginny popped out of her chair and started to gather the plates. Fleur also stood, assisting, and started chatting with the two women, who returned tight smiles. Ron held onto his own plate, gripping it tight when Ginny attempted to take it. She gave Ron a sour expression, and moved on to take the one in front of Harry, who let her. She bent down close to Harry.

“Ron’s the worst around her,” she whispered, her breath tickling Harry’s ear, before she stood up. She walked over to the bin, scrapping the left-over food off, before putting it into the sink.

When all the plates but Ron’s was put away, he brought it to Fleur, who thanked him for it, Harry could swear Ron’s head might implode from how red it was turning. Harry snickered, and Ginny lightly elbowed him, giving him a wink. Ron came over to the pair, hooking his arm with Harry’s and dragging him away from the kitchen, his face still as red as his hair. 

The next two days were rather somber around the Burrow. Everyone was careful not to mention anything about the attacks that kept appearing in the _Daily Prophet_ , or mention any of the war going on. Even Moody had taken to just keeping a post outside the Burrow, avoiding Mrs. Weasley. Harry felt guilty about mentally counting down the days when Riddle would come visit again. He wanted to tell Ron about Riddle becoming his guardian, but decided to wait until Hermione got there.

The day before his birthday, Hermione arrived just after morning accompanied by Mr. Weasley. Harry was glad to see her, even if she dragged a whole new set of knitting tools to make more of those awful hats. Ginny helped her bring her school trunk upstairs, since Hermione was going to be staying in Ginny’s room. Harry and Ron didn’t have time to tell Hermione to be cautious about mentioning any attacks before she started rattling off the news during her morning reading of the _Prophet_. Mrs. Weasley had frozen at the first hint of danger, Ron practically shoved Hermione off her chair to get her to stop, just as Mrs. Weasley left in a hurry from the room, muttering about laundry. That was a particularly memorable day, if only for watching Ron look so helpless against Hermione’s verbal assault. They didn’t make up until after Harry and Ron were able to drag Hermione aside and explain it.

“Oh,” Hermione said, her brows pinching, and bringing a single hand up to slowly tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” shrugged Ron, staring down at his hands. “I mean, it’s not like you could have known mum’s gone a bit mental from all this.”

“I should have though,” she replied, now looking towards the bedroom door. “Do you think apologizing would make it better or worse?”

“Worse,” Harry and Ron responded back immediately.

They spent the afternoon together in the bedroom, talking about their last few weeks. Harry learned that Hermione’s parents were trying to focus on places they might leave to if things got too bad. Hermione was adamant that while her parents might be leaving, she wouldn’t drop out of school, or abandon her friends. Harry wouldn’t have blamed her if she did though, but he didn’t hesitate to share how glad he was that she would be staying with them. Ron fumbled with his words.

“Uh, yeah..” he started, “Same.”

“Thanks for that,” Hermione replied sarcastically.

“No, really,” Ron protested, “I mean it!”

She smiled and continued with her story, until Ron picked up, telling them about Bill working with the Goblins are Gringotts to start new security measures, and his dad’s promotion. Harry waited until both finished their stories of the summer, before he started his. Harry began at Dumbledore’s funeral, all of them taking a moment to collect themselves before he continued. He explained Riddle coming over to Privet Drive this summer.

“That must have been a shock to the muggles,” Ron said, snickering. “To think, they had the most powerful wizard in the world, sitting in their house!”

“Did he do anything to them?” asked Hermione softly.

“He was actually nice to them,” answered Harry defensively. “Far nicer than I would have been.”

“Well, that’s very diplomatic of him,” Hermione said with a nod.

“Yeah, he wanted them to sign paperwork for him,” Harry started, shifting, and having to fight a stupid grin from appearing on his face. His gut swelled with anticipation, now finally get to the part he really wanted to share. “And my aunt did. Riddle is now officially my guardian.”

They both were staring at Harry as though he grew another head. Harry didn’t care though, feeling happy to say it aloud for the first time. This time, he couldn’t stop the grin from growing on his face, a bubbling of exhilaration formed in his chest, and he had the strangest urge to just say it again. Say that Riddle was his guardian. Ron was the first to really break from his shock, his own face splitting into a grin, and his hand clasping on Harry’s shoulder.

“He’s really your guardian now?” asked Ron, his voice pitched with excitement.

“Yeah, he is!” answered Harry, nodding, and laughing suddenly.

“That’s brilliant!” said Ron, a grin spread across his face to match Harry’s. “I mean, if you had to pick someone to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to get to you, you couldn’t have picked a better person.”

“He’s more than that,” said Harry, feeling his smile fall a bit. “He’s important to me.”

Then, there was a great bundle of hair in his face as Hermione flung herself into his arms, holding his as fiercely as Mrs. Weasley ever had.

“I’m so happy for you both, Harry!” she exclaimed. “You deserve a father figure.”

Harry’s happiness almost seemed to freeze at that word. He liked Riddle, and looked up to him, without a single doubt. But, he wasn’t Harry’s father.

Hermione pulled back slowly from the embrace, searching Harry’s face, and Harry could see the moment she realized her mistake.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—no one could replace Sirius—I just thought,” she stammered.

“You just thought I’d found a better ‘father figure’ than Sirius,” Harry said steadily, but inside he was shaking with rage. It was as though the last month of mourning Sirius’s loss was for nothing, as every ounce of his anger and sadness he felt since that day came rushing back to him, knocking every other emotion out of the way.

“We both miss Sirius,” Ron said quietly, his eyes going between his two friends.

“Hermione never liked him,” Harry hissed, pushing himself off the bed. The pent-up energy in his body needing to be let out, so he paced. He focused on his anger, using it like a wall to hold back his sorrow. “Every time I tried to talk to him, you’d tell me it was stupid!”

“That was for safety!” Hermione cried, her face growing pale. “Sirius was—well, he was a good person. He was good to you.”

“See? You can’t even say you liked him,” Harry said, pointing his finger at Hermione. “What has he ever done to make you think he was such a bad person?”

“I didn’t say he was a bad person!” she nearly shouted, now standing up, with her eyes blazing. She stepped forward, getting close to Harry, nearly making him have to look down his nose to see her. “Sirius was a good man, he treated you fairly, he was brave, and he saved us at the Ministry! But” –and Hermione gave Harry a look that shut him up—“He had his own problems, like everyone else in the world. He treated Kreature poorly, was hot-headed, and he behaved like you were a replacement for your father, instead of how you deserved. So, yes, I am happy you and Riddle are getting closer, because Riddle sees you are you, not a replacement.”

Harry opened his mouth several times to say something, but found not a single word would come to him. A lot of the words that did filter through his mind would have Mrs. Weasley practically fainting if she heard them from Harry, but he wanted more than anything to refute her. He wanted to prove Hermione wrong, that she just didn’t know Sirius like Harry did, and he never looked at Harry like a replacement for his father. But, much to Harry’s growing horror, he couldn’t think of a single thing to defend Sirius with.

Instead, he turned on his heel, and stormed out of the room. He ignored their calls, and everything around him became like static noise, as he opened the front door, and slammed it close behind him. Clenching his jaw so tight his teeth felt as though they might shatter under the pressure, and his fists balled hard enough to make his knuckles go white, Harry stared at the gate, where Riddle disappeared just last Saturday.

“You thinking about running?” asked Moody, a sharp _thunk_ as his walking stick hit the ground. Harry could see him from the corner of his eye, barely hearing his voice over the roar of anger in his head. “Everything seems easier when you’re on your own.”

Harry didn’t answer, focusing on his breathing, and willing away any tears that threatened to start spills.

“The Weasleys went to a lot of trouble setting up this security for you to stay here,” Moody said, leaning on his stick, one eye on Harry, the magically eye spinning around. He leaned in. “It would be a rude thing to do, running, and having all of this go to waste.”

Harry wanted to tell him right where he could shove that statement, when he heard the back door open. He expected to see Hermione, or Ron, but it was Ginny instead, standing with her hair blowing in the light breeze. She strode up to the two of them, and placed a hand on Harry’s still clenched fist.

“I’ve got De-gnoming duty now, since mum’s trying to grow flowers for the wedding next year,” she said, already tugging Harry along. Harry followed, but only after she nearly toppled him over with a practically strong tug. Moody stood by the gate, his magically eye staring at their retreating forms.

“I’m not really in the mood to help,” Harry said, as he was pulled around the corner of the house.

“I know,” Ginny said, letting Harry’s hand drop from hers now that they were out of sight. “I heard the last bit before you stormed out.”

“Were you eavesdropping on us?”  hissed Harry.

“No,” she replied coldly, her eyes narrowing. “You were so loud everyone in the house could hear. I was taking the laundry to my room when you left.”

Harry worked his jaw, wondering if he could stand another person angry at him, or not. Ginny turned from him, already routing around for a gnome. Harry watched as she grabbed it by the ear, reached her arm back, and tossed it a good forty feet. Almost against himself, he thought she would make a good chaser with that arm. She repeated this a few times, before slapping her hands together to rid them of loose soil, tossing her air over her shoulder to look up at Harry who was still stewing.

“It’ll help,” she said, giving a shrug. “At least it helps me when I used to get angry at Fred and George. Of course, they’ve gone now to work in their shop. It’s just Ron and me here.”

Harry watched her sweep another gnome up from the ground, but this time she took a few steps before throwing it. The gnome cleared the hedge this time, sailing far past it, and Ginny just stood there for a few moments. Harry swallowed, his eyes falling to the ground.    

Harry reached down and grabbed the first one he could see. He had squeezed the pitiful looking gnome a bit hard, chucking it towards the hedge. His anger didn’t disappear, but did find that tossing them far over the hedge worked to stop the thoughts about Sirius from flooding his mind. After an hour of working through the back garden, Ginny suggested they compete to see who could toss a gnome furthest, when Mrs. Weasley was called for dinner. They arrived in the kitchen drenched in sweat, and covered in dirt. Mrs. Weasley pushed them off to go wash up before coming downstairs for dinner. Harry passed by Hermione, who didn’t meet Harry’s eye as she passed, quickly moving down the stairs towards the kitchen.

After washing up, Ron was in the hallway, waiting for him. They didn’t say anything, not really needing to, and they went together to the kitchen for dinner. Harry didn’t speak to Hermione until it was almost time for bed. By then, his anger had completely vanished, and he just felt exhausted.

 When he woke up the next day, he had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He was barely awake when the door burst open to reveal Ron, Ginny, and a trailing Hermione. Ron practically leapt into the bed, with a broad smile on his face.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” he said, shoving a poorly wrapped package into Harry’s arms.

“What?” Harry said, yawning. He reached over and put on his glasses first, before looking down at the gift in his hands. Two eager faces, and one wary, waited for him. Harry tugged on the twine holding the wrapping on, and it easily fell apart to reveal numerous packages of candies.

“It’s all I could get by owl,” Ron said, his smile not nearly as cheerful. “But, we’re going to Diagon Alley after we get our letters tomorrow, so we can always grab you something better.”

“No, I really appreciate this,” said Harry, proving a point by popping in a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. He was thankful for a cherry flavored one. “Thanks.”

“Mum’s got you a cake downstairs,” said Ginny, smiling, and tucking her hair behind her ear. “Come on.”

Mrs. Weasley’s cake for him was huge, and tasted amazing. He grabbed a second piece when no one was looking, already half way done with the piece before Mrs. Weasley caught him, but she just smiled. Harry was pleased to see everyone around the Burrow. An owl had come in from Riddle, carrying a small note, and package. Harry opened it to see a bag filled with money. The note read the money was from Harry’s vault, with a few extra gold pieces from Riddle to buy something from Diagon Alley. Riddle also explained he will visit this weekend with a proper gift. Harry pocketed the bag, folding the note up and tucking it away.

Lupin stopped by for lunch, but he was strangely reserved, even for him. His hair was streaked with grey now, and he only took two bites from the birthday cake Mrs. Weasley served him. Harry could hear bits of him talking with Bill and Moody about recent attacks, before Mrs. Weasley shooed him out of the kitchen.

The anger from yesterday seemed so little compared to that news, and when the _Daily Prophet_ came in, and showed more attacks, this time with a death toll, Harry couldn’t remember why his fight with Hermione was so important yesterday. Every page Harry flipped through had another attack, or an attempted one. There were only two articles in the whole paper that weren’t about attacks. One was about Riddle, a reply to a string of questions asked about security of the school for the coming year, and the other was about Harry. He glanced at an article talking about him titled ‘ _The Chosen One, fact or Fiction?_ ’ and Harry tossed the paper to Hermione, not wanting to see anymore.

He was dreading it, telling Hermione and Ron about the prophecy. He almost didn’t tell them, not wanting to burden them with the knowledge. The phrase came back to him the ‘Chosen One’. It made Harry swallow thickly, and feel a bit ill. He knew Dumbledore would want him to tell Hermione and Ron. Riddle would as well, since he didn’t ever comment on Harry telling them about Riddle’s true origins. As mad as he was yesterday at Hermione, he knew without a doubt she wanted what was best for him, and she was a good friend. Even if she could be horribly overbearing at times.

Harry worried about telling them all day and when Harry worked up the courage, it was nightfall. He had asked Ron to come to into the bedroom, and bring Hermione with him. They both looked apprehensive as they walked in, but Harry didn’t waste any time. He worried his courage might fail him if he did. He told Hermione and Ron about the prophecy. Hermione had gone pale, while Ron took a sharp breath of air.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Ron whispered, his eyes darting between Harry and Hermione. “I mean, you’re really the chosen one, and all that?”

“Yea,” answered Harry with a shrug, but his heart clenched at the thought.

“We’re with you Harry, you know that, right?” asked Hermione softly, her hand coming out and laying on Harry’s. “I know I can’t expect you to forgive me so quickly about—“

“It doesn’t matter,” said Harry, shaking his head. “Besides, I’ve got Riddle with me, and he’s strong enough to help. You both shouldn’t have to risk your necks just for me. I understand if either of you want to walk away from this, while you can.”

There was a silence that rung out for a few moments, then “Mate, you say something stupid like that ever again, and I’ll clock you,” Ron threatened, his nostrils flared in anger.

“What Ron means to say,” Hermione started, giving Ron a sharp look, but her eyes were blazing in similar ire. “Is that we’re your friends Harry. We’re doing this for you, yes, but also… this war is all of ours, not just yours. We want to fight, and we’ll help you, because it’s the right thing to do.”   

“And if you go off by yourself with this, I’ll hex you,” said Ron in an unconvincingly indifferent way. After a moment, Ron’s lip twitched into a smile though. “Or I’ll convince Hermione to do it for me, if you don’t think that’s much of a threat.”

“Now, that’s something I’m frightened of,” said Harry, amused. Hermione slapped both of their shoulders, but her smile gave away her amusement. And just like that, the tension from the last two days vanished from them.

They all three chuckled, before falling back into a more serious conversation about the prophecy. They went over the wording of the prophecy a few times, slowly working out each phrase, and concluding what Harry originally thought. Harry or Voldemort would have to kill the other at some point. But what really stuck out to Harry more than anything, was seeing the two of them still perched on the bed with him. Despite what they had said earlier, the fact that they remained steadfast by his side, even knowing for sure now that Harry was going to have to face Voldemort, meant more to Harry than he could ever say.

For perhaps the first time since he sat in the Headmaster’s office and heard the prophecy, felt truly light again.

“What does Riddle think about all this?” asked Ron after they exhausted everything they could think of for meanings on the prophecy.

“He thinks it means the same thing we do,” replied Harry with a shrug. Hermione’s face turned thoughtful. “One of us has to off the other… eventually.”

“I wonder how he effects it,” Hermione said slowly, now chewing on her thumbnail. “He’s got the same soul as Voldemort – Oh, Ron, stop whimpering it’s just a name—and that could potentially change the prophecy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, sitting up straighter.

“I don’t know,” Hermione shook her head. “I don’t have much to go on, but I’d say be careful of getting too close to Riddle for now, until we figure out how he fits into all of this.”

“Too close—? Hermione,” started Harry in disbelief and slightly indignant. “Riddle’s my legal guardian and Headmaster. I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

“I know,” she said, holding her hands out in defense. “I’m not asking you to do anything rash or stay away from him. Just… be careful. Until we figure everything out.”

Harry took a deep breath through his nose, and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”

Hermione gave him a look, before slowly leaning over and hugging him once more. Harry sighed, wrapping an arm around her, feeling a little guilty because he honestly wasn’t going to follow her advice. Ron stared down at his hands, and cleared his throat. They parted, Harry feeling his cheeks warm a bit, and Hermione ducked her head.

“Well, we’ve got a busy day tomorrow,” she said, still not looking at either of them. She stood up abruptly, making an exaggerated yawn, “I’m tired. Time for bed. Night.”

She marched out of the room, and Ron slowly stood up as well. He looked at the closed-door Hermione just left from, back down to Harry, then to the door again.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he muttered.

“Night,” replied Harry, confused as Ron left the room.

The morning brought their O.W.L.s letters, and school supplies lists. Harry was pleased to see he passed everything except Divination, which was a lost cause, and History of Magic. His heart dropped into his stomach when he read his potions grade. Exceeds Expectations, which was one grade lower than Snape required. Hermione had spotted his grades, giving him a pat on the shoulder and suggesting he ask if Snape would make an exception. Harry doubted Snape would make an exception for anything regarding him.

Their trip to Diagon Alley was surprisingly not that exciting, though Harry did enjoy visiting Fred and George’s joke shop. The twins had insisted that Harry didn’t have to pay for anything he wanted since he gave them the startup funds. Harry had gathered quite a pile of things to use if another teacher showed up to Hogwarts as terrible as Umbridge, or on Malfoy, who Harry had spotted sneaking through Knockturn Alley.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had followed under the invisibility cloak and had seen a deal Draco was making in Borgin and Burks, the Dark Arts shop. Harry knew he was up to something, but they couldn’t get close enough to make out what either of them were saying, and had to get back to the rest of the group before they were noticed missing.

When they made their way back to the cobbled streets, Harry looked around at the limited dingy stalls that littered the walkways. That morning Harry had tried on the ring Riddle had given him at the end of the school year and found it didn’t fit. Since they were already in Diagon Alley, Harry wanted to see if it could buy a chain so he could wear it around his neck.

Mr. Weasley brought him to a stall called ‘Brigham Bissette’s Bountiful Beauties’. He wandered around the stall, trying to find the owner, before a wizard sprung up almost from under the stall’s table with a strange pair of glasses on that made one of his eyes look about the size of a teacup, stringy white hair, and permanently hunched back.

“What can I do for you?” Bissette asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“I was wondering if you had a chain for sale?” asked Harry, looking around at all display hooks that had odd looking watches, and various necklaces dangling from them. “Something to wear around my neck?”

“A necklace?” he asked, his gnarled hands pushing through the various bits he had hanging, he pulled a handful of them down, muttering and tossing some on the stall’s table, before his mismatched eyes peered at Harry. “You want it plain, something matching, or—” those eyes darted to Hermione, and Ginny who were too busy chatting with each other to notice the leer “something for a lady friend, perhaps?”

“No,” Harry said, his ears growing hot. “Uh… it’s for me. I want to wear a ring on it.”

“Hmm,” he said, both eyes narrowing. He held up a least a dozen chains in his hands, each varying in length, color, and material. “I have some good woven chains, nice for amulets, leathers for charming, and metals if you’re going for something flashy. Personally, I’d go with the flashy.”

“Er…” Harry looked between them, not knowing the difference between the woven, or the leather. He pointed to a dark colored chain that reminded Harry of the leather books Riddle had in his office. “This one.”

“That’ll be two galleons,” he said, tossing the chains from his other hand down without a care, then holding his now empty hand out for the money.

Harry could hear Ron muttering that two galleons for a piece of string was outrageous, but Harry didn’t mind. Riddle had given him twenty for his birthday, so two wouldn’t hurt. He dropped the coins in Bissette’s waiting hand, and got his chain. Bissette moved on immediately to Ron, who turned down his offer of protection amulets with a scrunched nose. Harry pulled the ring from his pocket, laced the new chain through it, and tied it around his neck. He put the ring under his shirt, not wanting to get it nicked while they finished any other shopping. The rest of the trip went by smoothly though, and they left with bags of books, and school supplies. 

When they arrived back the Burrow in time for dinner. The smell of onion soup, and roasted beef already making Harry’s mouth water as they approached the back door. Harry was so distracted by the thought of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking he didn’t see Professor McGonagall sitting at the table with Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley, until he nearly passed her.

“Potter,” she said, then turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Thank you for the refreshments.”

“Professor?” asked Hermione in confusion, standing right behind Harry. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Potter, actually,” McGonagall said, standing up and making her way to Harry. Her eyes went over Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, before settling on Harry. “I have a few things to discuss with you in private.”

For a moment, Harry had the sudden dread of wondering if McGonagall was here to discuss his O.W.L.s. She had stood up for Harry to Umbridge, stating she would tutor him nightly if that’s what it took for him to become an Auror, and with his grade in potions, he wouldn’t become one… was she going to lecture him over it? Was she going to tell Harry how absolutely disappointed she was in his grades? Did he do so poorly that she had to come in person to express her displeasure? Harry wanted to flee from the house, but McGonagall’s steady hand made its way to his back, guiding him against his will into another room to have a discussion. He looked over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who were being lead to the table for dinner by Mrs. Weasley, but they were watching Harry being ushered into another room.

Harry and McGonagall went upstairs and into one of the spare bedrooms. McGonagall waved her wand, and two chairs appeared.

“Sit, Potter, we have a few things to discuss,” she said, circling her own chair before she sat. Harry hastily moved to the one across from her, sitting, and waiting. She waited a moment while Harry got settled then, “a difficulty as arisen which I hope you will be able to solve.”

Harry frowned, wondering how he could possible solve a problem with his grades at this point. It was much too late to correct any of his O.W.L.s by this point, surely.

“Sirius Black left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place in his will,” she said softly, but that didn’t stop Harry from feeling like he was just hit by a bludger in the stomach.

“Oh,” said Harry. “You can keep using it as Headquarters.”  

“Thank you Potter, but we have temporarily vacated the house as Order Headquarters due to the worry a spell or enchantment might make the house pass down to another relative, even if Black was quite clear he wanted you to inherit the house,” she continued quickly, as though to ease the pain this subject brought up. Her lips pursed for a moment, as she watched over Harry.

“Who do you think would own it?” asked Harry, his hands already clenching.

“We believe… it is possible to fall to Bellatrix LeStrange,” she answered.

“No!” Harry exclaimed, not even realizing he had stood up the moment he heard that woman’s name. His heart was thundering against his ribs. Not Sirius’s killer, she didn’t deserve anything of his, even if Sirius didn’t like the house.

“Sit down, Potter,” McGonagall said sharply. Harry took a few steading breaths, before reluctantly sitting back down. McGonagall nodded. “We all had rather than same reaction, I assure you, but we can solve this whole mess with a simple test.”    

“What test?” he asked.

“With the house comes everything in it, including the house-elf,” she said, flicking her wand. With a loud crack, a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat’s ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Weasley’s floor, and covered in grimy rags.

“Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!” cried the house-elf, his hands pulling at his large ears to cover his face. “Kreacher belongs to Miss. Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreaches belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher needs his new mistress to get Master’s locket back, Kreacher knows the Potter brat won’t help, he won’t, he won’t, he won’t—“

“As you can see, he’s not very happy about this arrangement,” said McGonagall, as they both watched Kreacher stomp his feet, and chant “he won’t, he won’t” repeatedly. The Professor’s eyes turned to Harry. “Give him an order, and if he’s passed to you, he must obey.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He didn’t want the wretched house-elf under his care, or anywhere near him. All Harry would think of was the delight on Kreacher’s face when Harry had last seen him, proclaiming that Sirius was kidnapped, and probably going to die.

“Why did you lie about Sirius?” asked Harry sharply, and Kreacher’s chants cut off like a switch.

Kreacher’s mouth seemed to move on its own, a look of pure loathing on his face.

“Mistress Bellatrix asked Kreacher to tell the Potter brat a lie, and the Potter brat was not Kreacher’s master so Kreacher lied. Kreacher lied, Kreacher lied!” he said, throwing himself on the floor and rolling around, banging his fists, and kicking his legs. Harry was suddenly bombarded with the memory of Dudley during a Christmas where he didn’t get enough presents. “Kreacher needs to get Master’s locket! Master entrusted Kreacher but Potter brat won’t help, he won’t!”

“Well, I think that settles it,” said McGonagall.

“Does he have to live with me?” asked Harry, horrified, as Krecher thrashed around at his feet, yelling about a locket.

“Not if you don’t want him to,” McGonagall answered, “He should be watched, wherever he is, since he’s gotten out before. The Hogwart’s kitchens might be a good place, where the house-elves can watch him.”

“Yeah,” said Harry in relief, “yeah, I’ll do that. Er—Kreacher—I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves.”  

Kreacher’s large eyes narrowed in disgust at Harry before another loud crack, he vanished.

“The only other matter is the Hippogriff,” said McGonagall. “Hagrid’s been looking after him for the past month, but if you wanted to move him, I suppose we could make arrangements.”

“No, no that’s alright,” said Harry, shaking his head. “Hagrid can have him, I think Buckbeak would prefer that.”

“Very well,” McGonagall’s lips turned up at the corner in approval. She gave him a nod. “Well, now that we have everything settled, did you have any questions for me?”

“Er—just, school, stuff,” stammered Harry, his earlier fear coming of his test scores coming back. He worried McGonagall wouldn’t have a solution for him, that there really was no chance he could ever become an Auror. “About my O.W.L.s, actually. I didn’t earn the grade to get into NEWT level potions…”

“Well, that shall have to wait until school,” she answered, standing up, but had a stern expression. “I can’t play favorites. But, if you write to the school, I may be able to get permission from our new Headmaster to answer.”

“Thanks,” muttered Harry, his head hanging a little low. McGonagall come over and patted him.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” she said softly. “Take care, Potter.”

Harry nodded, watching her sweep out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

 


	7. Welcome and Unwelcomed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This was certainly an interesting chapter, and luckily came a lot faster than the previous one. I've also been working on an outline for my own original story for my first novel, which is taking up a little bit of my time. I'm going to continue to try to keep my two chapters a week updating though. Hopefully, this will improve my skills to get my own novel done quickly.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione spent the next day playing two-sided Quidditch in the garden. Ginny had proposed the idea when Harry had lingered at a window for two hours, wondering if Riddle would come early or not for his visit. She dragged him away, and convinced everyone to play. It worked out fairly with Harry and Hermione on one team, since Hermione was rubbish at Quidditch, with Ron and Ginny on the other side. Harry did have to help catch Hermione when she almost tumbled off her broom, but luckily something distracted Ron enough that he didn't score a goal, allowing Harry to catch them back up in points.  
  
They packed away the brooms in the shed, and when they came back around the house, Riddle was standing in the back yard, speaking with Moody. Harry felt a grin split across his face, as he nearly ran over to see the man. Riddle's eyes tracked the movement, turning to Harry as he approached, and a smile on his face.  
  
"Good to see you, Harry," said Riddle, his eyes looking Harry over, his smile growing. "Molly's meals have done you well."  
  
"She's a great cook," Harry replied, glancing over to see the other three come up behind him. Hermione and Ron were both greeting Riddle, but Ginny hung back a bit, merely nodding. She headed back off to the house, most likely to tell Mrs. Weasley about their visitor.  
  
"I'll leave you to the house. I'll be on patrol with Tonks," Moody said, his magical eye rolled back in his skull. "Keep me up to date on those protection charms, they need more work."  
  
"I will," replied Riddle, tilting his head in acknowledgement. Harry and Riddle watched as Moody walked to the end of the Weasley's yard and vanished. Riddle turned back to Harry, and company. "Well, I can smell lunch. Shall we?"  
  
They all went inside just as Mrs. Weasley was putting the last of the platters down and Fleur was almost done setting the table. Mrs. Weasley came and greeted Riddle warmly, fretting over his thin frame. Everyone sat down at the table with Bill, Harry, Ron, and Riddle all piling on more food than the girls. Mrs. Weasley looked pleased.  
  
"Anything exciting happening up at the school?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "It must be overwhelming being the Headmaster."  
  
"It was at first," answered Riddle, almost reluctantly as he had to stop eating to speak. "I've become accustomed to delegating my work out to the teachers. Minerva has been a tremendous help."  
  
"You aren't still up in the school working during summer, are you?" asked Ron, already shoving food in his mouth the second he was done speaking.  
  
"It's my duty is to be at school during summer," Riddle replied, then took a small bite of food, chewing quickly, as though he knew the next question would be directed at him. He wasn't wrong.  
  
"Did you find a replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Oh, yes I found a replacement," he replied with a nod. "Professor Snape will be the Defense teacher, and Horace Slughorn will be the new Potion's master."  
  
Harry almost choked on his food for a moment, and he wasn't alone as Ron let out a cough. Harry grabbed his drink, taking generous gulps to help clear his throat.  
  
"No need for such dramatics," said Riddle, buttering his roll and smirking. "Severus will make a good teacher. He understands the Dark Arts better than most."  
  
"That's because he's a Death Eater," said Ron with his voice scratched from all the coughing.  
  
"Ronald Weasley," Mrs. Weasley started with a stern expression. "I'll not have you speak ill of your professors! Especially in front of your Headmaster."  
  
"Yes mum," Ron muttered, turning red, and sinking low in his chair under her ire.  
  
"Snape—er… Professor Snape is going to be the Dark Arts teacher?" asked Harry when he finally cleared his throat. Riddle have him a nod, confirming, and Harry felt his heart drop.  
  
Harry, like most people in Hogwarts, was aware of Snape's numerous attempts to become the Defense teacher. Per Umbridge's report during one of her sit ins, Snape had applied for the position every single year since he first started teaching. Dumbledore had always turned him down for it. With Dumbledore gone, and the last Defense teacher returning to Ministry, there wasn't any obstacle in Snape's way. Though, Harry couldn't understand why Riddle would think Snape would make a good teacher on the subject.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, Riddle, and Bill all continued to discuss the school over their lunch. Harry picked at his food, waiting until the meal was over so he could warn Riddle against Snape. He was sure all he had to do was explain why this would be such a bad idea, and then Riddle could correct his mistake. Perhaps Slughorn would teach Defense?  
  
"Mum," asked Ginny.  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"May I be excused?" Ginny, who had barely touched her food, put down her fork, and was already clearing her plate. Mrs. Weasley frowned, standing up, and putting a hand to Ginny's forehead. Harry frowned while he watched the exchange, wondering if Ginny was coming down with something. She had seemed fine during their Quidditch game. Perhaps when Harry had elbows the Quaffle away from her, he hurt her? He felt sick with himself wondering if he harmed her.  
  
Hermione's foot connected with Harry's, and he barely held back the urge to make a noise, when he looked up and saw her eyes wide, darting to the side. Harry turned and saw everyone else was staring at him.  
  
"Er—sorry," Harry started, feeling his ears warm. "I didn't catch that."  
  
"I asked if you would like to go on a trip with me," Riddle said patiently.  
  
"Oh, yes," answered Harry, perking up in his chair. "I'd love to."  
  
"Good," he gave a nod and turned back to Mrs. Weasley. "I'll have him back within the hour."  
  
"I still don't think this is very safe," Mrs. Weasley said with a frown, her eyes darting over to the family clock with all the hands still pointing to "mortal Peril". She ushered Ginny upstairs, and returned to the table. "At least take Alastor with the two of you."  
  
"I must decline," said Riddle, wiping his face with a napkin, before standing up. "We're safer alone, since no one would suspect Harry would be without guards, and removing the them here would alert the Death Eaters that Harry has left the safety of your house. You'll have to trust my judgement on this one Molly."  
  
"Since I've got no guardianship over Harry…" Mrs. Weasley said, standing up as well, and her frown deepening. She looked like she very much wanted to argue this point. "You'll do well to make sure no harm comes to him."  
  
"I promise," said Riddle, giving a slight bow.  
  
Harry quickly thanked Mrs. Weasley for the good, and followed Riddle out the back door. He glanced back to see the worried faces of his friends, and he gave them a smile with a wave. He didn't know why anyone was worried about their safety. After all, Riddle was the one to bring him from Privet Drive all the way to Hogwarts, kept him safe there, and then to the Burrow. A quick trip should be easy by comparison.  
  
"To ease their concerns, would you slip on your cloak please, Harry," Riddle asked, folding his hands in front of him, and pausing by the gate. "I'm afraid, this won't be a fun outing. Stay close to me."  
  
Harry tugged his cloak that was shoved into his pockets. He flipped the cloak over himself as Riddle lead him past the gate, and onto the country lane. Riddle led them down the road, passing the scattered trees, and over the hill at the end, before bringing up his arm. Harry hesitated only for a moment, then reaching out, his hand rested on the crook of Riddle's arm. Instantly Harry felt the pressure and unmistakable sensation of Disapparating.  
  
When the pressure eased, Harry blinked, and looked around. They were on another country lane but this one wasn't in an open field. It was bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, and a clear, open sky. There was an ill-kept wooden sign post with letters half faded by time, and vines growing over it, but the notched edges of arrows pointing down each end of the lane. Harry shuffled closer and could make out the higher one, where the vines had yet to reach: GREAT HANGLETON, 5 MILES. Riddle stepped past Harry, heading in the other direction, and Harry moved to follow.  
  
They walked silently the short way with nothing to really see except the large hedges until the lane came to a curved end, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry could see a small village nestled between two hills, with its Church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a once handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of patched lawn.  
  
Harry turned to ask Riddle why they were going to this small village, but Riddle had turned, and was walking briskly. Harry almost tripped over his cloak attempting to keep up as Riddle flicked his hand, and like with the fence during their first trip out, they parted to allow them through. Riddle paused, allowing Harry to step in beside him, before another twist of his hand, the hedges went back into place.  
  
"Keep your cloak on, and follow close," Riddle said then continued his walk.  
  
Unlike the path prior, this one wasn't smooth. Harry wished he brought better shoes as he stumbled over the rocky, and potholed road that sloped down like the last one, and it seemed to be heading towards a foreboding patch of dark trees. Despite the clear sky, and high sun, light seemed to disappear into the narled branches. It took a few moments before Harry's eyes could adjust to see the building that was almost swallowed by the surrounding trees, half-collapsed, and only slightly larger than a garden shed. Harry turned almost in a circle, and found he couldn't see any of the beautiful valley below, or the lane from here. The trees and hedges prevented anyone from seeing out, or in.  
  
Riddle stirred next to Harry, slowly walking forward with an outstretched hand, and paused when his fingertips touched the door. A shimmer of spun gold filtered over the shack and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. Riddle's hand ran down the grimy door, and with a forceful push, opened with a shriek of protest from the hinges. Instead of going inside, he stood at the entryway, considering the dark house.  
  
"Come in with me. You can take your cloak off inside," whispered Riddle, finally stepping in. Harry reluctantly stepped in as well. Riddle flicked his hand, and a light came on in a turned over lantern. Harry almost wished he didn't turn on a light, as now he could see the ruin of the place.  
  
Rusted pots and pans lay strewn across the place, wooden floorboards bending under water damage, and cobwebs filled all four corners. Sat, in the middle, as an old armchair with springs popping out of the cushion, its pattern faded, and stained with things Harry would rather never think about. Harry began to cough against the dust, when Riddle opened a window, and cast fresh air in. Riddle went to the lantern on the ground, picked it up gently, and placed it on the fireplace mantle.  
  
"I will say, it was nicer in my universe," said Riddle in an unconvincingly casual voice. His eyes darted around the house, as though looking for someone, or something.  
  
"Where are we?" asked Harry, pulling his cloak off, and folding it over his arm.  
  
"We're in the Gaunt House," answered Riddle, slowly walking around and his head turning to look at everything. "This is where Voldemort's mother lived in her youth, until she left with his father."  
  
"This is… where Voldemort's mother lived?" asked Harry with a cold chill going down his spine. His eyes roamed the house with a new sense of horror that went beyond just the state of it. It was hard to imagine anyone living in this cramped place, let alone the mother to the most powerful Dark Wizard ever born.  
  
"Yes," Riddle all but whispered, a sad smile appearing. "And my mother, for they were one in the same."  
  
"Oh," Harry said foolishly, his eyes going down to his feet.  
  
"This is where that ring you're wearing around your neck was found," Riddle continued, returning to the lantern. With a wave, it grew a bit brighter, and the summer breeze blew in from the opened window. "That ring is an heirloom from the Gaunt family, passed down generation to generation to the eldest child."  
  
"So, it's Voldemort's ring?" Harry inquired, his hand up to his chest and pressing at the ring hidden below his shirt. "Why would you give me it?"  
  
"Voldemort, and myself have no children, Harry," Riddle said quietly. "When I decided to take you on as my dependent, you became the heir to everything I own, little as that may be. I wanted you to have it, along with the Slytherin locket, but I couldn't locate that item yet," –Riddle turned to Harry— "but I am looking for it. They are now your right to own."  
  
"Just because you signed some paperwork, doesn't mean you should try to give me every heirloom you can," Harry replied with a frown. He shook his head slightly in disbelief. He didn't have the heart to tell Riddle, he honestly wouldn't want anything to do with Slytherin, not after his second year. "Being there for me is enough. I don't need things."  
  
"That is very kind of you," Riddle walked over to a rusted pot on the floor, picking it up and turning it over idly. "But, there is another reason I am looking for them. I believe Voldemort may have invested dark power in them, that is helping him."  
  
"So, this was something for the prophecy, not just a present," asked Harry feeling an ache in his chest, his hand comig up to brush the ring beneath his shirt.  
  
"It was both," he replied, tilting his head. "It is an important ring to me, regardless as to whatever intentions Voldemort had towards it or the power he placed in it."  
  
"What sort of power?"  
  
"The power to keep one alive, should their body be destroyed," answered Riddle gravely. "There is a terrible power out there, Harry, that allows a wizard to split their soul, and place it into an object called a Horcrux. Voldemort would have done this, and I believe it is the reason he still lives after failing to kill you."  
  
Harry felt bile climb the back of his throat, and threaten to spill his lunch on the dingy wooden floors. His hand violently clutched at the ring that lay against his chest, and Harry at once wanted to rip the item off, and tossing it as far as he could away from himself. Then, just as he clenched his hand to do just that, he remembered Hermione: "He's got the same soul as Voldemort…"  
  
"Ah," Riddle tilted his head to the side. "You see the problem. I can feel when I am close to a piece of his, or rather, our soul, and I have an unnatural pull towards them." –Riddle straightened and placed the rusted pot back on the floor— "I can tell you that a piece once inhabited that ring, but no more. Minerva found it and worked to destroy it all last year. It was why she was away from school so long."  
  
"Does… does destroying parts of his soul, hurt you?" asked Harry, his stomach twisting at the thought.  
  
"Hurt… that is an interesting word…" Riddle murmured as his gaze wandered to the open window, a crease forming between his eyes. "It can be called pain, but it is more like a phantom ache. It does not harm me. It is as though it were happening to another person, and I was merely witnessing it. It's quite unpleasant, I assure you." Riddle's eyes turned to Harry. "Now, let's go over a few things about Voldemort's horcruxes."  
  
Riddle directed Harry to the corner of the room where no broken objects lay. He conjured two chairs, and held one for Harry who sat, and took the other. Riddle spent the next twenty or so minutes explaining what exactly a Horcrux was, how it worked, and his theories on what Voldemort might have chosen to house those soul pieces in. Harry felt dizzy the whole time, wavering between feeling ill at this news, and horrified that someone could split their soul. Riddle concluded their conversation by informing Harry they would be looking for them this year.  
  
"But… what about school?" asked Harry.  
  
"I can do both," answered Riddle, his chin raised with pride. "However, if we don't get to all of them before he realizes just how much we know, I fear he will try to relocate them and make them impossible to find."  
  
"Why didn't he do that in the first place?"  
  
"Because he never once thought anyone could be clever enough to know about them, let alone brave enough to go looking," Riddle answered plainly.  
  
There was a pause. "He's a bit full of himself."  
  
Riddle let out a sudden laugh, his hand covering his lips immediately, and his eyes crinkling in mirth. Harry chuckled as well, watching Riddle struggle to contain himself.  
  
"Well," Riddle laughed. "We were Headboy."  
  
"Did Dumbledore know about all this?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh, he certainly suspected," Riddle said, his laughter dying at the sound of the old Headmaster's name. "He and I had several conversations about the possibility. When he explained about the diary, the one you destroyed in your second year, I confirmed it for him. It was a horcrux."  
  
"So… if the diary was one, and the ring another," Harry pondered, and Riddle's eyes focused on him. "How many more is there?"  
  
"That is where even I must guess," said Riddle, a hand coming to his chin in thought. "If I were pressed I would wager there would be seven in total, that includes the one in his body. Seven is a strong, magical number. I've been drawn to it my whole life, and my guess would be he would be as well."  
  
"That means, there would be four more to destroy."  
  
"Correct," Riddle nodded. "However, we need to confirm that number. Once I find out how to get that information, I will inform you."  
  
Harry sat in his chair for a few moments, going over the information that was just shared with him. He couldn't think of anything Voldemort would put his soul into. It could be anything in the world. His eyes looked up at Riddle, who sat twiddling his thumbs, waiting patiently.  
  
"Can I share this with Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry.  
  
"I think…" Riddle started, watching Harry's face closely. "You should do what you feel is best. This is ultimately your task as well. If you think they can contribute, or lighten the burden for you, tell them. But, keep in mind, this cannot get out to others."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good, then let's get you back to the Burrow," Riddle said, standing up. "I'm sure Molly is ready to have kittens over you being away."  
  
When they returned to the Burrow, Harry felt wrung out, and wanted to find a quiet space to think on what he had just learned. Instead, Ron and Hermione greeted him immediately, and Harry forced a smile on his face. He turned to Riddle, who had placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Don't think I forgot about your birthday," he said, pulling out a small package from his pocket, handing it to Harry. "I think you'll find it useful."  
  
Harry didn't have time to open it right away, as Mrs. Weasley ushered him inside the house, and he was forced to watch Riddle leave. Harry took a deep breath, tucked the package away to open in private, and joined his friends. They had quizzed him on where him and Riddle went off to, but Harry's stomach clenched at the thought of telling them. He told them it was secret, and he would tell when he could. That hardly made them stop questioning, but Mrs. Weasley did step in and order them to stop harassing Harry about it. Being a member of the Order and having to keep secrets most likely helped her sympathize with Harry.  
  
It took until he was getting ready for bed before he had some time alone. He pulled out the present, and quickly unwrapped it. A small book, bound in leather that frayed at the edges showing its age, and titled The Dark Arts Revealed, Advanced Edition.  
  
Harry found himself opening the book and reading the first few pages. He had expected the book to be filled with magic that would harm, or disturbing. Instead, after reading the introduction to it, Harry found it wasn't a book on how to perform Dark Arts, it was discussing them in an almost clinical way. Harry flipped to the index, and quickly found the three unforgivable curses listed, and turned to their respective pages.  
  
In a way that only the imposter Mad-Eye Moody had been able to explain them, was a description of each spell, what it did, and how they achieved it. Harry almost sighed at seeing the word 'intent' in each, when speaking about casting of the spell to be effective. His poor attempt at casting the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange was brought to the forefront of his mind. Even after killing his godfather, Harry still couldn't muster up the ill intent to cast the spell properly. The other downfall was, non-verbal spells required a large amount of intent as well. Harry flipped to a page about intent, and how it worked on casting spells.  
  
Harry became so engrossed with the book, that by the time he turned off the light, he was nodding off to the distant sounds of owls hooting, and the house completely silent. He tucked an empty candy wrapper into the book to mark where he left off, before turning over and going to bed.  
  
The rest of summer went by in a rush for Harry. Without realizing it, he had spent just over a month at the Burrow with his friends. Riddle's visits were now just sharing a meal where he only revealed a little of the going ons of Hogwarts before leaving. Harry was both grateful for no more meetings being about Voldemort and sad to have their visits be so short.  
  
Harry was lucky that Hermione reminded him to pack his trunk, and get the cage ready for Hedwig, who had been hunting outside a lot more than usual. Harry scrubbed the cage for her before she returned the night before they would have to leave for King's Cross. Harry hastily put his new book into the bottom of his trunk, being very careful to not let Hermione or anyone see it. He didn't want the questions about why he had a Dark Arts book on top of everything else.  
  
He also was out of time to tell Hermione and Ron about what he learned about Voldemort and the Horcruxes. Every time he attempted to bring up the subject with them he found himself making an excuse not to tell them. First it was just lack of privacy as Ginny was usually around as well, and Harry didn't want to get her any more involved, and Harry enjoyed her company, so he never asked her to leave. The later times, Harry had convinced himself that Hermione and Ron had enough to deal with, without adding even more to their plates, and he resolved his guilt by the idea that he would tell them if it became relevant.  
  
The train ride to Hogwarts was oddly quiet for Harry in the beginning. Ginny left him to go hang out with Dean, and Harry watched her bouncing red hair leave down the train. He had to shake himself from his stupor as he remembered Ginny usually didn't hang out with him during their school year. The elated feeling from boarding the train sunk low in his stomach.  
  
He shared a compartment with Neville, and Luna, since Ron and Hermione had duties to perform as Prefects. Neville and Luna seemed keen on continuing the defense club 'Dumbledore's Army' or D.A. for short, this year but Harry didn't see a use for it like they had the year prior with Umbridge as their teacher. As much as Harry disliked Snape, he knew that Snape could teach, and knew more about the Dark Arts than he did. He did promise that if there was a need for it, he would consider starting the group back up, but that was more out of tribute to Dumbledore, than wanting to teach again.  
  
Half way through the train ride, Harry, and Neville received a note from their new Professor, Slughorn, to join him in his compartment for lunch. Harry and Neville eyed each other before getting up and going. It didn't take long for Harry to decide he didn't like Slughorn very much as the man was only interested in the connections he could get from the students, though he was surprised to see Ginny among the lot. Apparently, she had impressed Slughorn with a Bat-Boogie Hex. Harry smiled when he found out it was a Slytherin who she hexed.  
  
On the way, back to the compartments, Harry overheard Slytherins talking about Malfoy. Remembering the deal, he had spied happening between Malfoy and the shopkeeper, Harry slipped on his cloak, and followed. Draco was laying his head in Pansy's lap, talking about joining Voldemort's gang, and speaking as though he wouldn't be in Hogwarts long. Harry listened in, wanting to know a date, something concrete. It started out as a rather brilliant plan, but when one of the students moved their luggage down, smacking Harry in the head, he was caught. He was quickly hexed, and left with a broken nose as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station.  
  
Harry felt his heart racing in his chest, worried that the train would leave with him on it. He could hear the distant footsteps of the other students leaving and becoming fainter. Soon, he was seemingly alone on the train, and the grumbling of an engine starting made Harry want to scream, but he was held in place by the spell, and invisible by his cloak.  
  
He was luckily discovered by Tonks, who came to investigate when he didn't leave the train. With a quick spell to fix his nose, and some hurried walking, Harry made it to Hogwarts's grounds where they met Snape at the entrance gates.  
  
"I'll take Potter the rest of the way, you may leave Nymphadora," Snape said. He lifted the lantern up so his dark eyes could look over Harry's face, which no doubt had dried blood still on it from his nose, and sneered.  
  
"I thought Hagrid would answer," protested Tonks, her eyes darting between the two.  
  
"He was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead," said Snape, standing back to allow Harry to pass him. When Tonks attempted to step forward, Snape shut the gate in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with his wand, so they slithered, clinking back into place. His eyes rose to her face as though challenging her to protest his treatment.  
  
Tonks pursed her lips but did not make a word of complaint, instead turning to walk away from the grounds with her head held high. Just before she disappeared, Harry called out to her.  
  
"Good night," holding a hand to his mouth to help carry his voice into the dark. "Thanks for… everything."  
  
"See you, Harry."  
  
Snape and Harry did not speak to each other for a minute or so. Between the embarrassment of being left on the train with a broken nose by Malfoy, and Snape's extraordinarily rude treatment of Tonks, Harry found his jaw clenched, and his ear burning from his stewing anger. They were just in view of the castle, when Snape slowed his walk down, stepping beside Harry instead of leading. Harry's eyes cautiously turned towards him.  
  
"Unusually quiet this evening aren't we, Potter," Snape said almost casually. "Then again, you are probably waiting for a bigger audience, so they can fawn over your words, I'm sure."  
  
Harry's nostrils flared in fury, and he pinched his lips shut, not wanting to give Snape any more reason to try to make this worse. Instead of making a comment back, Harry took a deep breath, and continued his walk under Snape's scrutiny. They made it just a few more yards in silence.  
  
"I see you've learned to tame that temper of yours," Snape continued. "It seems the Dark Lord did show you a thing or two during those summer lessons."  
  
"What are you… He's not Voldemort!" Harry roared his shoulders tensing as he turned to face Snape, who was smirking at the outburst. Harry stopped and refused to take another step, his eyes glowering at Snape.  
  
"Maybe you should continue those lessons, I don't think they quite stuck as well as he hoped," he said unkindly, the lantern's light casting deep shadows across his face. "You've been following him around all year, I'm sure you'll pick up manners soon enough."  
  
"You know nothing about our relationship," Harry hissed. His blood was practically boiling in his veins, and his heart beat was drumming so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear the words that Snape was saying, but he did hear them. Snape closed the space between them in two steps, his black robes soaking into the night giving him the appearance of a specter.  
  
"Don't I?" Snape asked quietly. "I don't know how he favors your opinion above all others, or makes promises to you, that he always keeps. How about his presents, that always seem to be perfect for every occasion, yet always have a darker purpose?"  
  
"You don't know anything about him!" Harry protested, though the ring around his neck suddenly hung a little heavier. Snape's black form leaned in, his nose nearly to Harry's and the lantern light dancing wildly across his face.  
  
"Tell me, Potter," he asked softly, "do you?"  
  
Harry and Snape stood in stillness for a moment. A knowing smile slithering across Snape's face in Harry's furious silence.  
  
"I don't have to answer to you," Harry said darkly, before turning and marching towards Hogwarts. Snape's legs were longer, and almost without effort he caught up to Harry. Harry refused to look at him, vowing silently to find a way to get back at him.  
  
"Think on it, Potter," Snape said, lifting the lantern higher as they approached the oak doors. "Oh, and fifty points from Gryffindor, for being late."  
  
Harry barely contained his rage as he watched the bat like figure of Snape disappear into Hogwarts, with a smirk, no doubt, curling on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading please leave a comment or Kudos. Thank you!


	8. The Dark Mark

 

Harry was so angry at Snape’s parting words that he forgot about his nose, or the blood crusting on his face. He nearly bumped into Proudfoot, one of the two Aurors that would be patrolling the school, and smiled at him. Proudfoot’s brows furrowed, but he smiled back, as he continued his patrol down the hall. Harry had almost forgotten that while he had seen Proudfoot during the summer, the man had never met Harry before. Harry entered the Great Hall in the middle of the feast, causing at least half the pair of eyes in the room to turn to him, as he all but stomped down to sit beside Ron and Hermione. The eyes followed Harry, still on him even as he tried to scrunch down in his seat to avoid them. Even Nearly Headless Nick was floating down the table, closer to where they sat.

“Where’ave you—what happened to your face?” asked Ron, finally looking at Harry.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said, ruefully grabbing some food for himself, and ignoring the numerous looks he was getting from his fellow Gryffindors.

“You’ve got blood on you!” Hermione said alarmed. She pulled out her wand and with a quick spell, all the blood vanished from his clothes. Her eyes quickly roamed him over. “Why aren’t you wearing your robes? Why were you covered in blood?”

“Later,” Harry hissed, his eyes forward, and focused on his meal. He could almost feel the burning gaze of Snape up at the Teacher’s Desk, and another pair, but these were worried. Harry felt a pinch in his chest at trying to meet Riddle’s eyes after his confrontation with Snape, and bit roughly into some food.

“But—” said Hermione.

“Not now, Hermione.”

Harry ruefully hoped that everyone thought he might have done something brave to earn the blood, and his lateness to the feast, but Malfoy was sure to spread the tale of what happened on the train. With any luck, it wouldn’t reach the Gryffindor table, and Harry might be spared the humiliation. However, his eyes darted over, and Malfoy was barely paying attention to the students around him.  He seemed focused on his hover charm he placed on a folded bit of napkin as his fellow Slytherins laughed, and talked amongst themselves. Harry turned his eyes back to his own table, barely able to get a few bites in before the dinner disappeared, and pudding took its place.

“You missed the Sorting,” said Hermione, as Ron started to dig into the dessert spread out on the table.

“Did the Hat say anything interesting?” asked Harry, picking a few things for himself, deciding dessert was better than nothing.

“More of the same, really… advising us all the unite in the face of our enemies, you know…” Hermione trailed off with a frown on her face. “There was one bit, where the Hat talked about threads, once woven together cannot break. It was odd, since it spoke about three, not four… it couldn’t mean to leave out a house, could it?”

“Don’t know,” answered Harry popping in a treacle tart into his mouth.

“It’s all very ominous, isn’t it?” said Ron, still chewing on some chocolate gateau. “Not like we didn’t already know You-Know-Who is running around out there.”

“Oh,” Harry straightened. “Did Ri—er Thomason say anything about Voldemort?”

“Not yet, but Dumbledore always did his proper speeches after the feast… maybe he’s doing the same,” said Hermione. A smile lit up on her face. “Look, Hagrid’s waving at us.”

Harry turned to see Hagrid’s great form sitting at the staff table, who was indeed, waving at them. Harry could hardly keep the grin from his face in Hagrid’s enthusiasm, lifting his hand to greet him back. Sitting right beside Hagrid was Professor McGonagall, who only came up to somewhere between Hagrid’s elbow and shoulder in height, even with her pointed hat, and who was giving a disapproving look at the display next to her. Harry would almost be fooled by the act if he hadn’t spent a few weeks of his summer in her company, and knew she encouraged Hagrid’s behavior when no one was looking. Further on the table was Snape, who sat vulture like between Sprout, who gave Harry a smile when she caught him looking, and the portly Slughorn. At the end of the table, much to Harry’s surprise as Trelawney with her spectacles that made her eyes bug out, shawls draped across her body, and glittering beaded necklaces hanging from her thin neck. She rarely came down from her tower, and with now knowing she gave the prophecy that had changed Harry’s life, he found himself hastily looking away when her beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction.

“We heard from Ginny that you were in the compartment with Professor Slughorn. What did he want?” Hermione asked.

“To know what really happened in the Ministry, and if I had any good connections for him,” answered Harry dully.

“He isn’t the only one asking. Ron and I were interrogated about it on the train,” sniffed Hermione. “Right Ron?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “All wanting to know if you really are ‘the Chosen One’—”

“There is quite a buzz about that amongst the ghosts,” interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, nodding his dangerously precarious head towards Harry. “I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that—“

Harry didn’t find out exactly what was widely known, because at that time Riddle stood up, and the whole school turned towards him. A hush had fallen over the room so suddenly, Harry almost thought Riddle cast a silencing charm. Without another escape, Harry had no choice now but to look at Riddle, who stood at the golden dais in the middle of the staff table. Harry felt guilty at the prickle of doubt he had after his confrontation with Snape, followed by a sharp anger at the ex-potion’s master.

Riddle stood, nearly sparkling in his dark robes with delicate silver star stitching that glimmered in the candlelight. His dark hair combed back from his face for perhaps the first time since Harry had met him, leaving his bright blue eyes to stand out against his pale skin. He spread his arms, his hands loosely open in welcoming.

“Now that we have feasted, and have greeted our friends old and new, let’s begin with a few start of notices,” Riddle began, then rattled off the usual speech Dumbledore would give every year. Even though Harry had heard them many times before, this time the words gave Harry an ache in his chest. It was the first time someone spoke them other than Dumbledore.

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn” –Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, and his large belly bumping the table slightly—“is a former Professor at Hogwarts and had graciously accepted his old position as Potions Master.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all prepared for this news, but the rest of the student body was not. Every table broke out in a hushed whisper, echoing the same questions as to why Slughorn was potions teacher, and what about Snape…

“Professor Snape,” Riddle started, his voice cutting off the various conversations instantly. “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

The buzz grew after that, many of the Slytherins clapped at that announcement, Snape raising his goblet in cheer, a smirk at the corner of his lips. Harry wanted to hit him for it.

“Now, onto other, more unpleasant matters,” Riddle continued, his voice carrying through the hall. “Voldemort and his followers are now at large, and gaining strength.” The room grew tense at this. “I cannot press upon you all the need to be cautious during this year. I have seen to numerous protections both old and new, now working to defend the school. The Minister of Magic has also seen to it that we have two stationed Aurors patrolling always, Mr. Proudfoot, and Mr. Savage. However, this should not be taken as permission to take risks, or to break any of the new restrictions on curfew. We must all remain on our guard, and as always, if there is any trouble, contact your head of house immediately. Anyone caught breaking these rules will be brought to my office for punishment.” There was a pause as Riddle looked over the room. Many of the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Now, with that being said, let’s all retire to our warm beds, and begin the first day of class well rested.”

The scrapping of benches echoed through the hall as all the students stood to leave towards their dormitories. Harry continued to look up at the staff table where Riddle stood at the podium still, their eyes connected for a moment, before the shuffling of students forced Harry to move with the crowd, breaking eye contact, and leaving the Great Hall.

It wasn’t long until Harry, Hermione, and Ron had their new class schedules. Hermione took the maximum number of courses, which Harry had little doubt she would, while Ron and Harry were surprised to find out they could continue to take Potions. With the switch from Snape to Slughorn, they passed their O.W.L. enough to qualify. They all were happy to see they had some classes together, even if one of them was Defense with Snape.

Hermione had shuffled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom burden by books, and scrolls, while Harry and Ron walked in with only light bags slung around their shoulders. The day had been peaceful with free periods before and after lunch, giving them ample time to run their things to the tower before class. Hermione was shooting them dirty looks though.

Harry looked around the room and saw Snape had already redecorated much of it to fit his usual grim style. The curtains were closed, leaving only candlelight to brighten it, but even that was dimmer than usually giving the large skeletons that hung from the ceiling an ominous presence.  The old paintings on the wall that used to be filled with creatures or diagrams, were replaced with grisly images of people in various degrees of pain, many injuries or strangely contorted. The rest of the student’s heads turned, taking in the new additions, the classroom’s usual chatter dying down.

The door opened, and in came the dark figure of Severus Snape.

“I have not asked you to take out your books,” said Snape. His pitiless eyes lingering on Hermione as he made his way to the front of the room, and stopping just behind his desk. Hermione slowly tucked her books away, stowing her bag under her chair. “I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.”

Harry clenched his jaw, holding his body completely still, as Snape’s eyes passed over him. Their last conversation kept coming back to him, and even now the best Harry could think of to ease his own balance was to assure himself that Snape did not understand either of them. He was judging Riddle by his counterpart, not by Riddle’s actions. Harry repeated to himself that Snape didn’t know what he was talking about, until the squeezing sensation in his chest finally loosened. The students around Harry started to move, causing Harry to stand in confusion, looking to Ron for answers. Harry was so focused, he didn’t hear a single word Snape said since he walked in.

“What are we doing?” whispered Harry to Ron, pulling out his wand, and coping everyone else who paired off.

“Nonverbal spells,” Ron answered, not looking to least bit surprised that Harry wasn’t paying attention. “Have you learned how to do them yet?” 

“I’ve had lessons,” answered Harry, just as Snape came closer to them.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” asked a scowling Snape. “That means, I should not hear your voice.”

Harry glowered at the professor. Snape stood next to them, his black eyes watching, and a sneer on his pale face. Harry knew he was only staying near so he could see Harry fail at another thing. Harry whipped around to face Ron, who raised his eyebrows. Harry’s brows furrowed as he concentrated. Riddle had told him it was all about intent, and the book he was given as a gift told him how to use that intent. Harry thought about what it would look like if he cast _expelliarmus_ aloud, imaging the wand would spring from Ron’s grip, and flicked his wand.

In an absolute shock to Harry, as well as everyone else, Ron’s wand went flying out of his hands and clattered to the floor. What felt like every pair of eyes turned to the three of them; Ron standing dumbfounded as to how his wand ended up on the ground, Harry confused but elated, and Snape’s face mildly murderous. 

“It would appear you did learn something this summer,” Snape said slowly. He adjusted his cuff, then pulled out his own ebony wand. “Demonstrate once more, Potter, as I cannot trust Mr. Weasley to not have let his wand slip from his grip.”

Harry was tempted to try a horrible jinx on Snape. He gritted his teeth, knowing Snape would expect it, and most likely shield himself, causing the spell to hit Harry instead. Harry raised his wand, his eyes focusing on the wand in Snape’s hand instead of the Professor. Just like before, he imagined the wand moving, how _expelliarmus_ would work, and flicked his wand.

Snape’s wand did not go flying like Ron’s. Instead, it jerked in his hand, but a crackle of energy sparked between the two. Just as Harry thought, Snape had cast a protection spell, and Harry’s spell bounced back. If Harry didn’t already suspect this was going to happen, his wand would have gone flying. Lucky, his grip remained.

“Not as poor as one would expect from you, Potter.”

“But, let me guess, not good enough,” Harry said, squaring his shoulders.

“Not good enough, _sir_.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor.”

The words escaped his lips without his permission. His hackles raised as that ebony wand was still pointed in his direction, the sneering face of Snape up close last night, and his hissing words. Harry’s breathing increased, but in fear or anger, he couldn’t tell.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even ‘ _the Chosen One._ ’”

It wasn’t until they were out of class and had a few floors between them that Harry felt like he could breathe again. Ron was busy the whole way congratulating him, and Harry was almost sure he would have a bruise on his shoulder from the other Gryffindors patting him. The only other person who seemed to understand exactly how bad the situation was, was Hermione, who followed them with a frown.

“You really shouldn’t have said that,” said Hermione.

“I’m aware,” Harry hissed, rubbing his face.

“What made you?”

“He… he got under my skin last night. Before the feast,” Harry murmured, his shoulders slumping. They were still in the middle of a hallway, and a few students were lingering by as though to catch a bit of gossip. Harry sighed. “I’ll tell you later.”

Harry dreaded having to take detention with Snape. He could only imagine all the horrible things he could say when they were stuck together for an hour. Hopefully Snape would decide it was best to physically punish Harry instead, making him sort rotten ingredients, or dusting every jar, something Harry could do without thinking. Though, with him being the Defense teacher instead of Potions, there couldn’t be many things to sort.

Potion’s class had gone better than expected with Professor Slughorn. Without any books for the class due to Harry not believing he could take NEWT level, Harry grabbed a beat up used copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , while Ron grabbed the other. Harry was annoyed to find the previous owner of his book had crossed out many of the instructions, and wrote his own. At one point, Harry was forced to use the written instructions because the other was covered in black ink.

To Harry’s amazement, the new instructions worked better than the book’s. His potion won at the end of class, Slughorn bestowing him with the liquid luck potion Felix Felicis, and Harry leaving the class feeling rather lucky without the potion. Hermione and Ginny had cornered him about taking instructions from a book, while Ron sulked about him getting the other one without any helpful tips. Hermione examined the book thoroughly, proving there was no magic in it, Harry snatched it back. There was no way he was going to let this book go, not when for the first time, he was successful at potions.

The next day at classes, he noticed something odd happening. Draco Malfoy showed up late to Defense. Unlike Harry, who if he showed up late that would be points off Gryffindor, Snape merely turned his head away as though he didn’t notice. Harry couldn’t say he was surprised as Snape always favored Malfoy, but he wondered where Malfoy had gone to. They had the previous class together, and only had to walk through a few floors to get there.

Harry turned his attention back to class when Snape had made a sharp comment about those that don’t pay attention can expect to fail the day’s lesson.

Harry started watching Malfoy since then. His suspicions were growing ever since they had stumbled upon Malfoy making a deal in Knockturn Alley. When Harry added that, plus the bragging he did on the train, and now disappearing between classes, it seemed Draco Malfoy was up to something. Harry was sure it was something to do with the Death Eaters, and Voldemort. How could it not be when Draco’s father was a Death Eater, and strong follower? Hermione and Ron, while they agreed Malfoy was suspicious didn’t agree with Harry’s theory that something was happening.

“They’ve inspected every trunk that came into school this year, Harry,” said Hermione, not even turning from her reading of the _Daily Prophet_. “Flitch has been gleefully telling everyone he can search anything coming in or leaving the school.”

“Well, maybe he got something by Filtch,” argued Harry.

“Malfoy would have to get by Filtch, and our new Headmaster,” said Ron, moving a piece on the chessboard.

They were in a small corner in the Gryffindor common room, the chessboard on a small side table. Harry watched in dismay as Ron’s pawn took his knight. He could never understand exactly how Ron always planned several steps ahead, and won the game most of the time. Harry turned to look at Hermione when Ron called checkmate.

“Look, all I’m saying is something is going on with him,” said Harry, watching Hermione peek at him from the corner of her eye. “You can’t tell me all of this isn’t adding up to something bad.”

“If you’re so worried, you should tell the Headmaster,” Ron suggested as he put the pieces and board away. It was getting late. “He’d be happy to have an excuse to see you.”

“I will, in the morning,” Harry said with a nod. He felt comforted knowing he had something to tell that would believe him. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since school started.”

“Understandable, since he’s been busy,” Hermione folded up the _Daily Prophet_. “Don’t forget we promised to go see Hagrid tomorrow.”

“But, I have classes after that, then we have Slughorn’s party dinner…” Harry started with dismay.

“Yeah, must be rough being invited everywhere,” Ron muttered darkly at the two of them.

“We don’t even want to go to that stupid party,” Harry argued. “I’d much rather have time to prepare for Quidditch tryouts.”

“Are you doing them this Saturday?” asked Hermione, perking up.

“It makes sense,” Harry shrugged. “I only have detention then, and McGonagall reserved the pitch for us. We need to start practicing as soon as we can, otherwise Slytherin is going to beat us this year.”

“This Saturday?” Ron paled. Harry nodded. “I thought I’d have a whole week to practice before having to try out.”

“You’ve been improving all summer with Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. “You’ll do well.”

Ron’s ears turned red. They all discussed Quidditch for a few more minutes before turning in for the night. Harry was surprised that Hermione asked about Quidditch at all, considering she normally turned her nose up at the sport. Ron enjoyed her compliments though, puffing out his chest with each one. Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at them.   

Harry went to bed that night, thinking of the drills he was going to run for Quidditch tryouts, and fell asleep wondering if he could squeeze in practice once more with Ron before Saturday. It wasn’t long into Harry’s dream of flying his broom through London and dropping dungbombs on his Uncle’s head, when everything went dark around him.

He saw a long table lit only by firelight, and a crumpled figure on the floor. The logs in the fire crackled, as the figure writhed, letting out a small groan, and Harry approached with a slow, taunting gait. The white yew wand was held aloft in his right, pointing at the figure.

“Shall I provide more encouragement or will you finally release your knowledge to Lord Voldemort?” he asked in a high, cold voice. Harry could feel the smooth scales of Nagini slithering near his ankle as she passed, her tongue flicking out as she smelt her prey.  

“I-I do not know— anymore than w-what I have said,” begged a familiar voice. The figure turned his head slightly up and the Harry saw his pale silver eyes that once shined brightly. The wand maker Ollivander whimpered when Nagini came closer, and tried to pull himself away from her but was too weak.

“Come now, we both know that is a lie,” hissed Harry, crouching down to Ollivander. “Tell me where the Elder wand rests, or I shall let Nagini have you as dinner.”

“I—I don—don’t know, please, I beg you,” he stammered, and without waiting for the rest, Harry stood and pointed his wand. The wand maker screamed.

Harry woke drenched in sweat, his scar burning, and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.

He didn’t get back to sleep that night, instead he took a bath, and dwelled in his thoughts. The sight of Ollivander being tortured was pushed aside, and Harry concentrated on what Voldemort was asking about. The Elder wand. Whatever it was, Harry knew Voldemort shouldn’t get his hands on it. He wondered if he used the invisibility cloak if he could go to the library to research. The thought of being caught didn’t hold Harry back as much as disappointing Riddle by not being cautious. Besides, Hermione was much better at research than Harry. He could always ask her.

“I don’t know anything about an Elder wand,” Hermione said. “But, I thought you had closed your mind off from him Harry. It’s what Dumbledore wanted.”

“I don’t need reminding,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. It was prickled off and on all day. “Can you at least help me look up any information on it?”

“I can after I finish my Ancient Runes essay,” she replied, then sighed. “I suppose I can’t have expected this year to be quiet.” 

“No, unfortunately,” Harry said ruefully, before giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She told Harry off for hovering while she worked, so Harry left her, and headed down to the Quidditch Pitch to get some practice in before tryouts. On his way, he bumped into Malfoy, who practically shouldered his way through the halls. Harry was tempted to turn around and follow Malfoy as he ducked around the corner, but just then Ron came up to him asking him to walk to tryouts. Harry felt torn between the two, but he knows how angry Ron was that Harry had been spending so much time away. With a slightly forced smile, Harry joined Ron in walking to the pitch.

Quidditch tryouts distracted Harry so much that he almost forgot about Malfoy, until a few Slytherins came down to mock them. Harry was glad Ron made all his saves, so he was Keeper, and Ginny had outthrown many of the chasers. Both had made the team much to Harry’s delight but he was practically itching to get back into the school when the evening fell. He had detention with Snape soon, and so his time was limited if he wanted to check on Malfoy.

He sprinted through the hallways up to the Gryffindor tower, and pulled out the marauders’ map, quickly scanning it to find where Malfoy had gone off to. He found him standing in the room of requirements. Harry watched for the next half hour, but Malfoy didn’t leave, or walk anywhere, he just stayed in the same spot. Harry shoved the map back into his trunk, and went to Snape’s office for his detention. The last thing he needed was to be late.

Harry stepped into the chilly office, which was still located down in the dungeons which never warmed up even in summer, and closed the door behind him with a soft click. Harry had the budding hope that perhaps Snape had forgotten his detention or had to reschedule. After all, Harry couldn’t be the only one with a completely full schedule on the first week.  

His hopes were lost as Snape came from the back room of his office, stepping in, and eyeing Harry. Harry and Snape eyed each other, the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck rising as the professor approached him.

“Late for detention, Potter,” he said snidely. Harry glanced at the clock in the office, and saw it had only turned a minute past. “Ten points from Gryffindor, and I think an extra thirty minutes to detention should do.”

Harry gritted his teeth and held his ground. He wasn’t going to argue, that only led to Snape being worse.  Snape brought Harry over to the potion’s store room that was attached to the office, and pulled out a box of foul smelling flobberworms.

“You are to sort the rotten ones from the rest of the batch,” said Snape looking down at Harry. “No need to grab any protective gloves. I’m sure with the excellent potion making skills Professor Slughorn has boasted about you having, you’ll be able to grasp them correctly.”

Without another word, Snape turned on his heel and strode back to the hidden door at the back of the office. Harry was relieved he didn’t have to put up with Snape while he suffered through sorting. He did wait for a few moments to make sure Snape wasn’t going to reappear suddenly, before starting.

Harry’s nose scrunched up as he reached into the box of flobberworms. The ten-inched worms were fat from the half-chewed lettuce at the bottom of the box, and covered in slimy mucus. Harry took a deep breath, and poked the first one in the middle. Its body wiggled slightly and Harry could see the mouths on either end move. It didn’t seem rotten, so Harry tried the next one.

After ten minutes Harry figured out he needed another box to sort them with. He turned to the stores room and found an empty one to use. Through trial and error, Harry discovered grabbing them in the middle caused both ends to exert mucus but if he carefully scooped them up and kept the body level, it was much cleaner. Harry did wish he knew that before one of them blew mucus all over his sleeve though. Glancing up at the door Snape had disappeared through to make sure the Professor wasn’t there, Harry grabbed his wand and did a quick cleaning spell on his robes then tucked his wand away quickly. 

Snape returned just as Harry sorted the last one into the new box. Harry was pleased to see Snape looking dismayed that Harry had finished sorting all the worms already, and didn’t look covered in flobberworm snot.

“It appears you have finally grasped the barest requirements for potions,” Snape said, pulling out his wand and vanishing the box of rotten worms.

His dark eyes peered at Harry for a few seconds, and Harry felt a familiar tug. Harry’s nostrils flared in anger, concentrating to pushing Snape out of his mind instantly before even the barest of memories came to the forefront of his mind. Snape tilted his chin up, and if Harry didn’t know any better, Snape looked pleased.

“Stop trying to invade my mind,” hissed Harry.

“If I wanted to Potter, I could break your mind,” Snape replied, his hands going behind his back. “I see you haven’t improved any since our last lesson, as I suspected.”

“Yeah well, you tossed me out, if you recall,” Harry replied.

“Indeed,” Snape said softly, as though just remembering what caused him to toss Harry out the last time. “I’m surprised to see _he_ didn’t continue your lessons, then again, why would he want to strengthen you mind against him?”

“He said he would teach me,” Harry argued gripping his wand which lay in his pocket. “You never taught me anything! After every lesson, I had to go to Riddle. He actually explained it to me, which is the only reason I learned anything.”

“So, he did help you,” said Snape. Harry’s mouth pinched shut, feeling like he shouldn’t have said anything. Snape’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you been going to his office for help?” Harry didn’t answer. “That long… and yet, you don’t see.”

“Don’t see _what_?”

“That he’s been manipulating you, as he does everyone he encounters. The Dark Lord can be quite charming when he wants something, and he wants _you_ , Potter,” said Snape.

Harry felt his fury coil around his chest like a snake at the implication. His fists clenched, one hand around his wand, as he opened his mouth to shout, Snape flinched. It was so unlike the man to ever shrink back that it made Harry pause, and Snape’s other hand came and grasped his left forearm. Where the Dark Mark lay beneath the layers of fabric. Harry’s eyes found Snape’s, and they both understood what had just occurred. Voldemort was summoning his Death Eaters, and whatever it was for, couldn’t be good. 

“Dismissed, Potter,” said Snape, still clutching at his arm, and sweat beading on his pale forehead.

Harry paused, wanting to either shout at the man for his accusations against Riddle, or ask what Voldemort would want. A sharp look from Snape sent him out the door, his fury simmering as his curiosity was building. He wondered if he was calling his Death Eaters together to look for this Elder wand he was trying to find, or something else.

His thoughts were shattered when a scream echoed through the halls. Harry pulled out his wand without hesitation and went running down the torch lit halls. He could stop one of the prefects, Ernie Macmillan, in the hall. Ernie was out of breath, brandishing his wand wildly as he turned the corner, nearly cursing Harry.

“What’s happened?” asked Harry.

“D-Death Eaters!” he stammered, gripping Harry by the shoulders. “You can stop them, right?”

“I’ve done it before,” answered Harry in a rush. “Where are they?”

“Two flights up!” Ernie tugged Harry over to the corner near the main stair case. “It’s night, so no one’s really around.”

“Get Proudfoot, Savage, and any teacher you can find, especially McGonagall,” said Harry, before rushing up to the stairs.

He barely heard Ernie’s reply, as he took two stairs at a time up. His heart was pounding against his ribcage. A few other students were scattering around, two female Hufflepuff first-years were crying, but looked unharmed, as they ran past Harry. A tall Ravenclaw boy sheltered a smaller student along, getting them around a dark corner towards their dorm, and glanced over at Harry. Harry recognized the tall boy as Roger Davies, and thought Davies aunt did have a right to be proud.

Harry glanced around when he reached the two flights up, ready to fight any Death Eaters he found. A dark cloaked figure was laying lifeless on the ground, and for a second Harry had a stomach-turning worry course through him. No one else seemed to be in the hallway, and Harry edged forward to spot the Death Eater mask covering the figure’s face. Harry’s head shot up at a sudden noise, and he quickly hid himself in the shadows, wand pointing up the spiraling staircase leading to the Astronomy tower.

Another robed figure fell down the stairs, their body flopping around lifelessly, landing with a sickening thud on the corridor.  Harry could hear his own harsh breathing, his hands shaking, as he waited for either of the figures to move. They didn’t though, not a twitch, or a groan. Harry looked up towards the stairs and saw a vicious green light burn brightly for a second, before fading away. Harry heard the echoing of a large body hitting the floor.

Harry quickly moved towards the stairs, clinging to the wall as he moved up. He could hear two people talking, their voices too soft to make out. One was clearly panicked, while the other was steady. Before he reached the top, Harry stopped and put on his invisibility cloak. He slipped it over his head just in time, as he made out who’s voices were at the top.

“—of you! He’ll kill my family!” the voice of Draco Malfoy drifted down the stairs. Harry clenched on his wand, feeling a surge of righteous anger. He knew Malfoy was up to something this whole time! He must be the ones who let the Death Eaters into the school, and Harry was going to stop him.

“Such a shame,” Riddle responded, sounding very casual. “I don’t believe you can continue your year of Hogwarts after attempting to kill the Headmaster, do you?”

“You’re a fool!” shouted Malfoy, his voice shaking. “I’m not one of your students, not since the Dark Lord has been back. I’m a Death Eater.”

“ _Ah_ ,” said Riddle, his voice deepening. “In that case, I believe this little chat of ours just became far more interesting.” 

“What are you talking abou— _ARG_!” Malfoy shouted.

Harry jumped, nearly tumbling down the stairs, but neither person seemed to notice the sound, as Malfoy’s cry covered Harry’s stumble. Harry moved up the stairs to see exactly what was happening, stepping over a body, and swallowing back the bile that climbed his throat.

Malfoy was on the ground, kneeling, seizing his forearm like Snape had done just minutes before, screaming in agony. Riddle was standing over him, his head tilted to the side as though watching a curious experiment, a cruel smile on his face. Riddle flicked his hand towards Malfoy who now sobbed, no longer shrieking, but still grasping at his arm. Malfoy’s pale, pointed face turned up, his eyes widen in horror.

“H-How c-c-can y-you—?” he whimpered.

“Control that mark on your arm?” came the silky voice that was dreadfully familiar to Harry. Riddle kneeled to Malfoy, his eyes dark as he watched passively as Malfoy attempt to recoil away from him. “The explanation would take far longer than you have right now.” Riddle reached forward and grabbed the front of Malfoy’s robes, pulling the boy closer so their noses almost touched. “You will tell me exactly what he wishes you to do, how you got the Death Eaters in my school, and then, I may make the end of your life less painful.”

“I can’t,” whispered Malfoy shaking violently. Riddle released a breath, as though annoyed, then with his other hand, pulled out the hidden yew wand. Malfoy began to beg at this point, a sob falling from between his lips. “P-Please! He’ll kill my f-family if I tell you anything!”

“I do not care about your family, Draco. Shall I provide more encouragement, or will you finally release your knowledge to me?” asked Riddle in a high, cold voice.

Without even thinking what he was doing, Harry cast _expelliarmus_ , watching the wand fly out of Riddle’s hand. Both turned to where Harry was, but with Harry being under his cloak, neither saw him. Riddle stood with narrowed eyes, one hand still clutching at Malfoy’s robes, and snapped his fingers. Harry felt a gush of air go by him, a blasting spell, and the stone wall shattered next to him, knocking Harry aside from the impact. Harry landed hard on the floor, as bits of stone rained on top of him, part of his cloak coming off.

“Harry…”  

Harry reached up to straighten his glasses, letting the cloak fall to the floor as he stood up with his wand raised. Riddle and Malfoy both gazed at Harry with different degrees of shock. With a sickening clench in his stomach, Harry shakenly pointed his wand at Riddle, and almost numb to sting of the cuts from the stones that pelted his body before.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, wavering between being furious and frightened.

Riddle’s eyes went down to Malfoy who was frozen in place by shock, and then turned back to Harry.

“Interrogating a Death Eater,” he answered slowly.

“He’s just a student!” roared Harry, ignoring the indigent look from Malfoy.

“And so are you,” Riddle retorted, his eyes narrowing. “I’m going to protect this school as I see fit, and in this case, I need to know how the Death Eaters got in, what Voldemort’s got planned, and Draco here,” –he shook Malfoy slightly, making him whimper— “is going to tell me.”

“I c-can’t tell you his plans,” Malfoy stammered with tears already in his eyes. He took a sharp breath, looking between them, and stammered excitedly “B-but only I know how the Death Eaters got in! They don’t know how it works, so they can’t do it twice. I-I can tell them it’s impossible to do it again, so the school is s-safe!”

“Oh,” said Riddle with an unpleasant smile curling at his lips. His eyes focused on Malfoy, and Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach as his scar prickled. “Well, isn’t that convenient for me.”

“W-Wha—?” Malfoy started, but Riddle grabbed his throat, hoisting him up with his physical strength, pushing Malfoy towards the edge of the tower.

Harry gripped his wand, attempting to stun Riddle, but they were too close. Harry could easily strike Malfoy instead, making it easier for Riddle to toss him off the tower. Malfoy began to claw at the hands around his throat, rasping screams as his airway was restricted, his feet scrambling on the floor uselessly.

Harry did the only thing he could think of, and ran at the pair. Riddle’s hand came up to stop him with a curse, but Harry ducked it. Harry reached out towards the hand around Malfoy’s throat attempting to pull the pair away from the edge, and their hands connected.

Harry’s world went dark as his scar split open.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your reactions to the end of this chapter. It may be a week before the next chapter is posted. If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment and/or kudos. Thank you!


	9. Keeper of the Wand

 

“Is the boy dead?” asked Snape, keeping his voice level.

Severus Snape had observed the fallen Death Eaters on the landing leading up to the Astronomy Tower with a calm expression that belied the anxiety curling in his chest. He had climbed the stairs quickly, and quietly, slowing at the top to cautiously enter the room. Then, with great practice, he cleared his mind, and prepared for what awaited him.

His eyes first darted to the shaking form of his godson, who had pulled his knees to his chest, looking much younger than his sixteen years. The next was the still figure of Potter, who was spread eagle on the ground, cuts across his face, and wild hair damp with sweat. The last, was the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was standing over Harry’s body. Snape’s fingers tightened around his wand, only loosening his grip as he spied Riddle’s empty hands and the stricken expression on his face.

“ _Is the boy dead_?” Snape repeated.

“No,” Riddle’s dark eyes coming up to look at the ex-potion master. “He’ll need to be brought to the hospital wing for the night.”

“I will see to it that both get there safely,” Snape said though he didn’t move to follow through, awaiting the reply.

“You may take Harry,” said Riddle. “Malfoy has seen fit to remove himself as a student.”

“Is that so?” asked Snape, surveying his godson, who appeared to have lost his ability to speak. “I believe that to be a mistake.”

“You believe me to be mistaken?” Riddle replied, turning to face the defense teacher.

“I believe the boy to be mistaken,” Snape said levelly, his wand still hanging in his grip. “As his godfather, I forbid him from leaving school, and since he’s under seventeen, he must do so unless his mother says otherwise.”

Silence passed between them for a tense few seconds. Even the owls, who commonly called out as they left in the evening for hunting, were absent. Riddle slowly nodded, finally lifting his eyes from the defense teacher.   

“Then,” Riddle said softly, almost dangerously. “You had better take both students.”

Snape did not hesitate this time. As he stepped forward he took notice of the yew wand lying discarded against the legs of a telescope just a few feet from Riddle and, in the span of a step, quickly ran through a scenario to take down Riddle. The man had shown remarkable strength in the Dark Arts, and an ability to duel multiple wizards at once without use of a wand. However, the fight would pull his full attention, putting both boys at risk. Something, he would not do.

Instead, Snape flicked his wand, and cast the levitation spell on Potter’s body to transport him, pulling the boy closer to the door away from the Headmaster. Riddle tracked his movements with his eyes.

“I believe we’ll have much to discuss when this night is through,” Riddle said softly as he walked to his wand and picked it up. Snape paused. Riddle’s head tilted to the side. “Are there any more Death Eaters roaming the halls?”

“Two more who were found by the Headmaster’s office,” Snape answered immediately. “Minerva happened upon the bodies. It seems they never made it past the gargoyle.”

“Any students harmed this evening?” asked Riddle.

“None at the hands of Death Eaters. Some minor injuries from panic.” Snape kept his face natural as he spoke, knowing he was toeing the line with that phrase. Riddle’s eyes narrowed. Snape remained still, his wand raised, as Potter’s body floated in suspended air behind him.

Riddle’s eyes turned to Malfoy, who was still huddled in the corner and flinched when the Headmaster turned. Riddle leisurely walked up to him, his hands behind his back, the yew wand hidden from Malfoy’s view. Snape’s lips thinned as Riddle kneeled in front of the boy, who recoiled against the stone, a quiet sob escaping him.

“I shall take the act of bravery Harry made into consideration for you, young Draco,” Riddle reached out and put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “But, I cannot let you leave with these memories.”

Snape’s lips parted as though to protest but it was too late, Riddle put his wand against the boy’s temple. The tip of his wand glowed brightly for just a moment, as silvery threads gathered to it, trailing off, and dispersing into mist. Draco’s eyes fluttered, his mouth dropping, and his body went limp. Riddle held onto him, preventing his head from hitting the stone floor, a small grace that did not go unnoticed by Snape.

“I trust you’ll come up with an explanation for this,” ordered Riddle, who stood, and locked eyes with Snape. Snape could feel the probing of his mind, like a gentle touch reading his surface emotions. Snape’s expression did not change as he waited. What Riddle found satisfied him, and Snape was dismissed.

As Snape left the tower with his students levitating in front of him, he took a glance over his shoulder. Riddle had knelt once more and was gently folding Harry’s invisibility cloak with a mournful expression.

Snape calmly walked the two unconscious boys to the hospital ward, though his steps were longer than usual, and his expression sour. Even in the low torchlight Snape could see the red finger marks across Draco’s throat, and the heavy wrinkles in his robes. Snape’s own Dark Mark throbbed on his forearm in time with his heart, causing him to tighten his jaw to keep his face neutral. The Dark Lord had no doubt heard of the news, the Aurors most likely sending out an owl as soon as the Death Eaters were spotted.

He spared a glance at Harry, who was still unconscious, and lax as he drifted down the hall. The cuts across his face were numerous but small, most not deep enough to bleed, but the one on his temple was still oozing. Snape’s lip curled at the sight of it.

The rest of the teachers had cleared the halls due to the attacks, and the hallway echoed only Snape’s footsteps down it. The portraits he passed watched the teacher and the two boys with various degrees of shock. Snape kept his eyes forward, not wanting to be disturbed, and they had made it nearly there when McGonagall and Flitwick had turned the corner. Snape paused.

“Severus! There you are—Is that—oh Potter, and Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall asked. She rushed over to check on the two boys, her gentle hands touching each of their faces as Flitwick hurried to keep up with her. “What happened, Severus?”

“Death Eaters,” Snape replied moving around the two teachers and attempting to hurry to the nurse’s ward.

“I know that! Those two Aurors keep reminding me already, as though I could have forgotten such a thing!” McGonagall shot back, gathering her robes, and following, “How did the boys end up like this?”

“If you must have details right this moment, I suggest keeping up as they need Madam Pomfrey’s attention,” He answered continuing his brisk pace. “I believe Potter’s misplaced courage got the better of him, as I found him and Draco, along with three more Death Eaters, in the astronomy tower in much the same state you see them now.”

“Three more?” squeaked Flitwick as he struggled to maintain pace.

“Indeed.”

“What happened to the Death Eaters?” asked McGonagall.

“All three have been taken care of,” answered Snape. “I believe Potter may have attempted to stop them in some foolhardy notion of bravery, no doubt.”

“It’s always Potter who rushes off! You’d think the boy would have learned,” McGonagall began, though her expression softened when she stared at Potter, and glanced around as though just realizing something, “Where are Granger and Weasley?”

“Not to be found. As head of their house, I would assume you would be the better person to ask,” Snape said coldly. “Perhaps you could find them. I’m sure they would like to be with their friend.”

“They are in Gryffindor,” said Flitwick. “I was passing in the halls when they were with the group of students ushered back into their houses.”

“If they have any sense they’ll have stayed in the tower,” said McGonagall though by her tone, it sounded like she doubted they did. “In that case, I will meet you in the hospital wing.”

McGonagall turned sharply towards the staircase that lead up to the Gryffindor tower. Snape could see Flitwick almost huff, as he moved to follow her.

Snape continued his trek through the halls, hearing the distant sounds of students chattering, and entered the Hospital Wing through the double doors. The wing had numerous beds made up with a few students occupying them. He could spot a Gryffindor, two Ravenclaws, and a group of Hufflepuffs. Snape was pleasantly surprised to see not a single Slytherin made a fool of themselves during the attack. All the students appeared to be in good health, and were just talking amongst themselves in hushed voices.   

As Snape moved forward with his two charges, the room became quiet, a soft gasp heard from a student to the right that Snape ignored. Madam Pomfrey met Snape as he flicked his wand to allow each boy to go in their own beds.

“I was hoping this lot were the only ones injured,” muttered Pomfrey already moving between the two boys. Her skilled wand moving over them as she assessed their conditions. “What happened?”

“Death Eaters,” Snape replied. Out the corner of his eye he could see every student watching them. He turned ever so slightly to glare at them, and many quickly hid their faces.

“It’s a wonder we only have a few injuries with a Death Eater attack,” Pomfrey continued as she shuffled through her stores of potions. She placed two on Malfoy’s bedside table, and shooed a Hufflepuff away for getting too close. “I hope the Ministry sees this could have been much worse had this attack been on a private residence. I’m not one to judge a new Headmaster, but… I do miss Albus at times like these.”

“I’m sure our new Headmaster will help the Ministry see how this could have been worse,” Snape said, barely containing his sneer. The students were already back to staring, making his skin prickle in irritation. As though noticing his irritation, Pomfrey told the students off for staring before tutting.

“The students are required to stay here until morning for safety,” Pomfrey stated, her eyes narrowing at the group that pretended to be talking to each other instead of trying to overhear what was happening to the boys.

“Is Draco or Potter gravely injured, Poppy?”  

“I’m sure Potter’s ailment can be cured by rest, and some mending spells,” she said and waved her wand once more. The cuts and starting bruises on Potter’s face cleared up. With another flick, the blood was gone. Her brows pinched as she looked over at Malfoy. “However, Malfoy will need a bit more care. I can’t imagine why they would root around in a poor boy’s head for!” She made a disgusted noise. “I’m afraid I won’t know how bad it is until he wakes, but the least I can do is take care of the bruising.”

Snape gritted his teeth at the news, his dark eyes on the still form of Malfoy. Pomfrey quickly cured the bruising around Malfoy’s neck, and both boys looked like they were merely sleeping, though Potter’s brows furrowed. Snape watched over them as Pomfrey tucked them into bed, flicking her wand so they were in hospital pajamas instead of school robes.

The whole time, the anger was festering in Snape’s chest at Riddle, who put the boys at risk, and injured his godson. Not knowing if there was any lasting damage to his mind, did not help calm Snape. He wondered exactly how he was going to word the letter to the boy’s mother about this, and how he could possibly discuss this incident with the Dark Lord without a terrible outcome for everyone. Least of all, unleashing his anger upon the Malfoys, when they were already suffering harshly due to Lucius’s failure at the Ministry.

His eyes flickered to Potter’s form, to the closed eyelids where he knew emerald green lay beneath…

Snape looked up as the doors opened, and he was nearly shoved aside as Granger came rushing into the wing, followed closely by Weasley. Granger quickly grabbed Potter’s hand as though Potter was even aware she was present. Snape found his nose curling at the display, and turned towards the door where McGonagall and Flitwick stepped into the wing.

“What happened to Harry?” asked Granger her eyes going to Pomfrey.

“Professor Snape brought him in,” she answered though didn’t look pleased to see the two new students join the already growing amount in her wing.

“Professor what—”

“As I’m sure you’re already aware, Miss. Granger, there was an attack tonight,” Snape said impatiently. “Is it hard to imagine Potter rushing off into danger attempting to solve a problem that he has no right sticking his nose into, in the hopes of boosting his already overinflated ego?”

 Granger and Weasley glared at him, but Snape did not care. He didn’t have time to deal with the children. He made a few quick strides towards the door, knowing he had other matters to deal with concerning a certain foolish Headmaster.

“Where are you going?” asked McGonagall tersely. “We have students to look after.”

“Yes, and unlike you, I cannot play favorites,” he replied unkindly. “I am still head of Slytherin house, as you have clearly forgotten what that entails, and have other matters to attend to.”

He left with every pair of eyes in the room at his back, and quickly made his way to the Headmaster’s office. Snape took the trip in long strides, his black robes billowing behind him. Many of the portraits asked Snape about what was going on in the school, but he ignored their pleas. He had a far more important matter to handle. He passed the two Aurors in the hallway, ignoring their attempts at greeting, and sneered when they made a comment about his rudeness to his back.

When he approached the Headmaster’s office the gargoyle was already to the side with the staircase exposed. Not even waiting for the rotating stairs to bring him to the top, he took two steps at a time, barely registering the agitated voices in the office. With a sharp flick of his wand, the door behind him closed, and even though the lock clicked softly into place, all the voices in the office hushed. Snape’s dark form entered the room with his mind cleared from his anger, and his wand within reach.

Riddle was standing behind the great oak desk, his profile open to Snape, and his hands resting behind his back. The office was barely changed from when Dumbledore had been Headmaster, many of the books still on the shelves, the whirling objects, and even the empty perch for Fawkes. The only new additions were the increased scrolls spread across the once organized desk, and the ink wells, mostly empty, being used as paperweights. The other, was Dumbledore’s portrait that hung behind the desk, and whose blue eyes were watching Snape closely with thin lips.

“You came quicker than I thought. I’ve just sent the Aurors to patrol once more,” said Riddle, turning slowly to face the teacher who appeared in his office. His whole body was lined with tension. “The Minister will have word soon, and I doubt we’ll have privacy for long.”

“What did you do to Draco?” Snape demanded.

“I interrogated him,” answered Riddle, dipping his chin down, to look at Snape from under his brow. “Were you aware he became a Death Eater over the summer? Quite proud of that fact, and of his assistance in allowing Death Eaters into my school.”

“Interrogated a child? Shall I assist in moving you to the pink office downstairs and put in an order for blood quills,” Snape hissed. Riddle grew dark and quiet.

“Pardon?” There was a faint echo as a single glass cracked somewhere in the room.

“I take it the corpses you left through the castle were not forthcoming when you interrogated them?” Snape pushed further.

“I don’t recall you questioning these methods in the year prior, or did Dolores suddenly become a potions master? Quite a feat brewing all that veritaserum herself,” Riddle snipped. He stepped out from behind the desk, his hands still clasped behind his back as though unconcerned but the crackling sound of glass threatening to shatter echoed in his wake.

“Perhaps, because surely you haven’t forgotten how Longbottom conveniently destroyed my supply of veritaserum in an accident?” Snape replied casually, though his legs locked, standing his ground. “I rather recall your vocal retorts on the points I deducted for the incident.”

“And the detentions she administered?”

Riddle pressed, expecting Snape to falter. Instead the defense teacher simply smiled.

“Do you think it a coincidence that Granger should find a potion to soothe the exact wounds Potter received last year?” Snape continued in a voice hushed so that only the two of them could hear as Riddle drew closer. “Or the potions Madame Pomfrey is no doubt using to treat the ones he received tonight.”

“Received… tonight?” Riddle repeated, an unmistakable fury hidden behind his eyes that seemed to glimmer. It was then Snape could recognize a glamour spell on Riddle’s face and his fingers twitched towards his own wand. Riddle took a deep breath through his nose, before speaking. “I was certain I had dealt with all the Death Eaters before Harry arrived to the tower.”

“Oh, they were. I believe you can tell me how he came about them.” Said Snape.

“It was an accident.”

“Oh, an accident? It was an accident that you happened to go to the tower where no one would bother your interrogation?” Snape voice light, but his eyes sharp. “It was an accident that there are five dead men in the school? I suppose your wand just slipped when you obliviated my godson.”

Snape remained unmoved, but Riddle drew ever closer, and Snape could see the harsh wrinkles creasing the man’s eyes as they narrowed to slits. A flicker of silver crossed over Riddles face almost too quickly, but Snape was watching for it.

“I was –“ Riddle began with hiss.

“You were what? Reckless? Arrogant?”

“I was trying to protect Harry.”

“Obviously, you didn’t try hard enough!”

The office erupted in a storm of bursting bottles and flasks. The shelves shook, tables quaked, several of the portraits gasped as they were knocked askew, and the sword of Godric Gryffindor fell from its mantle and plunged into the headmaster’s chair. In the middle of the chaos stood Tom Marvolo Riddle, cold and calm, with his bone white yew wand tight in hand.

“I have been careless. I have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I will be the one to protect Harry Potter,” Riddle’s voice hissing akin to steam escaping from a boiling kettle. As he spoke his face appeared to ripple like disturbed water. “I, who have gone further than anyone. I, who have done what Albus Dumbledore would not. Yes, I slew those Death Eaters, but you would have seen them in Azkaban only to be freed upon Voldemort’s whim. I would sooner overthrow the Ministry than allow those fools to guard my enemies.”

Between the blink of an eye the glamour fell completely from Riddle’s face, and where once Snape saw dark eyes, there was shattered red like stained glass.

“ _Ah_. There you are,” Snape all but whispered in a strange sort of wonder. “When Albus first confirmed who you really are, I couldn’t see it.” His eyes moving over Riddle, taking in the changes, “but now I _do_.”

Riddle had stilled. Snape observed Riddle’s gaunt face, and the silver streak that now ran through his black hair, and his cold eyes, flickering broken red in the candlelight. Snape could finally see the man who could have become the Dark Lord standing in front of him and it made gooseflesh run up both of his arms though nothing on his face betrayed his fear.

His eyes darted up to the large golden frame of Albus Dumbledore, whose blue eyes had not left Snape’s form since he arrived, nodded almost imperceptibly. Snape stood straighter, his wand clenched in his hands, his chest puffing out slightly as he understood the meaning. He had to keep his ground.

“What if I were to go to the hospital wing, right this moment,” asked Riddle casually, but his eyes were glinting, and a cruel smile tugged at his lips. “And finish what I started? After all, with the one who could defeat the Dark Lord dead, I could easily take a higher seat than Voldemort ever could. My face is unconnected to him, my word so trusted by the Order and the Ministry… it would be so _easy_.”  

“You may find it difficult with me standing in front of the door,” Snape answered just as casually but there was no mistaking the steel behind it. His wand raised to meet Riddle’s.

Riddle’s head tilted as he considered the unyielding man in front of him. A light flick of the wrist, and Riddle’s cutting spell flew across the short distance, only to be brushed aside. It struck the bookshelf next to Snape, several books splitting open, and clattering to the floor. Neither man moved an inch under the raining of aged parchment. When the last page had settled, Snape jabbed his wand, and a bright yellow spell burst forth. It trickled across the protective shield Riddle had cast, dissolving into harmless mist.

“You would challenge the Dark Lord for these children?” asked Riddle calmly though his voice delicately inflected to suggest his disbelief.

“I’m willing to teach you a lesson, yes,” Snape replied. “If that happens to coincide with saving the school, then so be it.”

Silence passed between the two men.

“Albus,” Riddle asked with his eyes still on Snape, his wand firmly outstretched. “Do you trust Severus with your life?”

“As I am dead, the point is rather moot, but I did indeed trust him with my life,” came the cheerful reply from the portrait as though the question was expected. Snape could see the previous Headmaster twiddling his thumbs, as though there wasn’t a standoff happening in the office.

“Can _I_ trust him?”

“That, my dear boy, is up to you,” Dumbledore said, his glasses sliding ever so slightly down his crooked nose as he gazed upon the man behind the desk for the first time since Snape walked in. “Unless, you’re asking my opinion on the provision we discussed before Severus arrived, then I shall answer with yes.”

Riddle’s nose flared out, his wand dropping, and he turned from the defense teacher. He crossed behind the desk, his jaw working, but no words came out. The sudden change from the cold demeanor of the Dark Lord had shed completely with Riddle’s agitation. He appeared far closer to a child throwing a silent tantrum now. Snape tracked the man’s movements with his wand, not leaving anything to chance.

“I do not need a keeper,” hissed Riddle, his face contorted into anger at the portrait. “I merely had a slight lapse tonight, that shall not happen again now that I am aware of the trigger.”

“A lapse that placed two of your students in the hospital wing,” Dumbledore reminded him sternly. “And it may have been the death of one, had Harry not been there.”

“Why couldn’t it be Harry?” asked Riddle.

“It could,” Dumbledore conceded, then softly, “But, he rather has enough burdens, I think. Severus can keep a closer watch on you. He was the one who first discovered your… methods of dealing with Dolores last year.”

Snape watched as Riddle’s nose scrunched up and his lips parted for a moment as though to retort, but only a sigh escaped. His pale cheeks sprinkled with red as his eyes went to the floor in shame. His once tense shoulders drooped, the fight drained out of him.

“I’m sorry,” said Dumbledore softly, and kindly. “We both knew giving you power was a risk, but it need not be an encumbrance. Severus is quite capable at understanding people, even if he doesn’t always display that talent. I’m sure he would be a good option.”

“What, exactly, are the two of you considering?” asked Snape, betraying a hint of impatience for the first time. His wand slowly lowered.

Riddle twitched, his lips thinning, and his eyes darting back up to the portrait. Dumbledore merely gazed back at him. The office was quiet for a few seconds, but before Snape could ask again, Riddle finally turned.

“I have a… problem,” Riddle began, looking as though these words pained him. He flicked his wand absently at the destruction around them, and objects sprung to life, straightening. The Gryffindor sword moved back to its spot above the desk, and the chair mended. “In my universe I was an apprentice to Albus, but I had a… _keeper_ … who monitored my wand. I could not have it without their permission, and they recorded the spells I cast with it each day.”

“There lies the true reason you’ve become adept at wandless magic,” Snape said, not needing the nod from Riddle to confirm his suspicions. Snape’s mind raced at the reasons why someone would need a keeper for their wand, and why being under Dumbledore wouldn’t be enough, then as though understanding the man in front of him truly for the first time, “Just how long was your sentence for murder in Azkaban?”

Riddle flinched back as though struck by the words. Snape’s keen eyes understanding the curling of the shoulders, his gestures, his need to constantly move, and most importantly, Riddle’s desire for closeness. They were all signs of being locked away in Azkaban for years under Dementor guard. Snape was stuck in an odd dual feeling of wanting to sneer and laugh at the same time.

“I—well,” Riddle groaned, then collapsed into the chair behind the desk, his face in his hands. “I confessed to my crime, and served seven years for it. Until Albus took pity on me for squandering my skills, and the Ministry arranged a Keeper for me. It allowed me, my freedom since the Ministry could watch me.”

“Was it Minerva?” asked Snape, his mouth curving into a mocking smile when Riddle gave a slight nod. “Why not hand that position back to her? I’m sure she would be interested to know exactly who we have as our Headmaster.”

“Severus,” Dumbledore snapped, which made Snape be quiet, but the smile was still curled at the corner of his lips. “It is our hope that you will be Tom’s keeper, for the time being, until we all agree he can go without. He has been without one for years since arriving here, but with the stress of his counterpart, and need to protect Harry… he could use a little guidance.”

Snape observed the man looking all for the world, utterly defeated in his chair, and the portrait of Dumbledore watching them carefully. The other headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts remained quiet and still, though some now gazed at Riddle in disgust after his confession. Snape took a measured step forward, and held out his hand.

“I accept,” he said.

Riddle’s eyes slowly turned up to the hand extended, awaiting his wand. Snape watched as a complicated series of emotions flickered across the gaunt face as he waited. With great effort, Riddle took his yew wand by the end, and the handle came into Snape’s hand. Riddle watched as the longer fingers that were not his own, wrapped around the wand, and slowly pulled it away, as though daring Riddle to try to snatch it back.

“I hope you understand, you may never get this back.”

“I know,” came the miserable reply.  

 


	10. The Prince's Advice

 

Harry blinked against the bright rays of sun coming in from the arched windows that lines the Hospital wing in Hogwarts. He sat up much too quickly; Lights popped in front of his eyes and he felt sick. The room was a blur and shapes danced in front of his eyes, until his glasses were shoved on his face by Ron who looked half awake.

“Harry!” he said in a rushed whisper.

“We were worried about you,” said Hermione, wide awake and putting aside a book.

“Wha—“ asked Harry as he blinked hard to clear his vision. The Hospital wing cleared in front of him, as he saw the numerous students milling about. Harry noted that none of them looked harmed in any way, and a group was playing exploding snap in a corner, much to Pomfrey’s disapproving glare. Next to him though was the only other person still in a bed. Draco Malfoy’s blonde hair spread out on his pillow, and his pale, sharp face was lax in sleep.

“He’s the only one who hasn’t woken yet,” Hermione came over and sat down next to Ron, but Harry noticed they didn’t keep the usual distance this time. He hoped this was a sign they patched up. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

“Confused,” he replied honestly. The scar on his forehead hurt like an open wound, causing him to wince when he went to rub it. The last thing he remembered was pain bursting from it, and then nothing. Before that though, he was in the tower with Malfoy and Riddle…

“What?” asked Hermione in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Riddle?” demanded Harry.

“Shh!” hissed Hermione, looking around to see if any student heard them. All three sets of eyes landed on Malfoy, but he didn’t stir at their voices.  

Harry glanced around and saw his wand laying on the bedside table. He reached over, and with a flick, and cast _Muffliato_ making sure they weren’t overheard. A few students glanced up at them, but none of them appeared to have heard anything. The group playing exploding snap cheered, as a clear victor was declared, and a Hufflepuff stomping off after defeat.  

“You know I don’t like when you use that spell,” Hermione said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Hermione, this is serious,” Harry stressed. “Where is Riddle?”

“He’s in his office, I imagine,” she answered. Harry made a move to get out of bed, but Hermione grabbed his arm, and pulled him back in. “You can’t go! There’s a ban on anyone leaving the Hospital Wing until Riddle lifts it due to the attack last night.”

“Yeah, and we heard you were fighting last night by yourself,” Ron said darkly.

“I didn’t plan to have Death Eaters attack the school,” Harry hissed in annoyance, shrugging Hermione off, but staying in bed. His scar throbbed, which made him rub at it.

“Don’t you see what he sees?” Ron shot back, his eyes narrowing at Harry’s scar. “I thought you and Riddle had everything worked out, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“All summer you’ve practically waited by the windows for Riddle to come by,” Ron accused, his cheeks turning red in anger. “And then, you and he would go off together on these secret missions! Then, nothing! I thought it would get better at school but first week there’s you and Riddle, defending Hogwarts together and leaving the of us in the dark. You’d think helping a guy out for four years would mean something!”

“I didn’t plan any of this. I’ve told both of you loads of things!” Harry argued hotly. “About Sirius, about Dumbledore, and who did I come to when I first found out about Riddle? YOU!”

Ron and Harry huffed as though they ran a marathon, neither backing down. Hermione grabbed each of them by the ear, pulling harshly so they almost fell onto their sides.

“Both of you, stop!” she said, giving them a final yank before letting go. She turned her glare to Ron. “Harry’s under a lot of pressure to defeat Voldemort, and you know that!” Before Harry could add to it, her head whipped around in his direction, her glare not easing. “And Harry, Ron is your best friend! You’ve got to realize he misses you, and is concerned.”

They averted each other’s eyes, and rubbed their sore ears. Ron cast a glance at the double doors that led out into the hallway. Harry thought he might just get up and leave, despite the ban. Instead, Ron slowly sat back down.

“I don’t like it…” Ron muttered. “You always in the middle of things.”

“I don’t try to be,” Harry responded. Ron made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat, but Hermione gave him a look, and he stopped. Harry shook his head. “Listen, I know what it sounds like, but I honestly did just stumble into this.”

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Hermione offered.

“I was leaving Snape’s office from detention, and coming back to the tower, when the attack started,” Harry  
started with a frown. “A few people ran past me, and I went to see what was happening. That’s when I found the Death Eaters by the Astronomy tower… I followed the stairs up…”

“There weren’t any Death Eaters found upstairs,” Hermione said.

“No, but…” Harry hesitated, and his eyes went between his two friends.

A sudden swooping in his stomach, as though the floor fell out from under him rushed through him. Ron’s face, disbelieving as though preparing to be lied to, and Hermione looking so earnest. It came with a rush to Harry that he knew, if he lied to them, or kept withholding information like he had been all summer, he might lose them. His chest ached, and his clenched his bedsheets.

“Riddle… was there, with Draco,” Harry answered, then swallowed. “Riddle… seemed like he was torturing him for information on the attack.”

“Why would he think Malfoy knows anything?” asked Ron with his nose wrinkled, his eyes resting on Draco’s  
sleeping form.

“When you say tortured…” Hermione whispered.

“He was able to hurt him through the Dark Mark on his arm,” answered Harry, his mind peculiarly blank as though continuing the thought would lead to unpleasant places. Hermione noticed his mood right away, preventing Ron from asking another question.

“What happened when you arrived?” she asked quickly.

“Riddle threatened to toss Draco from the tower, and I reached out to stop him,” Harry felt the ache in his chest return.

Ron cursed under his breath. Harry took a few deep breaths, not wanting to focus on what happened for longer than he had to, but he couldn’t deny telling Ron and Hermione made him feel oddly lighter.   

“And then, my scar hurt,” Harry concluded with a shrug despite the tightness in his chest. “Next thing I know, I woke up here.”

“D-Do you think…” Ron stuttered, and glanced around the room but no one was paying attention to them due to the spell. “You-Know-Who might have been here?”

“Ron, he couldn’t have been,” Hermione answered at once, but her eyes rested on Harry, imploringly.

“He wasn’t,” Harry answered slowly. “I think… my scar reacted to Riddle. It was like when Voldemort,” –this time Harry did shudder— “touched my forehead in the graveyard. But, this time I passed  
out, I think.”

“We knew they had the same soul,” Hermione reasonably said with a small nod. “That doesn’t explain how Snape brought you and Malfoy to the hospital wing.”

“Snape?” asked Harry in alarm.  

“McGonagall told us Professor Snape brought you here,” Hermione explained with a frown. “Maybe Riddle asked him to while he searched for more Death Eaters?”

“Must have…” Harry weakly replied as he wondered what happened after he passed out in the tower.

“Why would You-Know-Who only send a small group, though?” asked Ron.

“Maybe, the way they got in only allowed a small group?” Harry offered happy that the subject was changed from Riddle.

“Or,” whispered Hermione. “It was a test.”

“A test?” Ron turned to Harry in confusion who shrugged.

“Yes,” she continued more strongly now, nodding to herself. “To see how Hogwarts new Headmaster would respond to an attack. If he was too soft, it would be easy to pick him off.”

“But,” Harry began feeling dread climb his throat. “If he responded by killing off every attacker?”

Hermione, Ron, and Harry all became silent for a few moments. Harry shifted uncomfortably, while Ron’s face grew pale enough that his freckles stood out starkly against his skin.

“Voldemort’s next attack is going to be worse because of it,” Harry said, and there was no question behind it. The necklace hung heavy from his neck once more, and his hand came up to touch the ring that lay under his hospital gown.

“Riddle showed he was willing to cross a line Dumbledore wouldn’t,” Hermione said, looking horrified. “And now Voldemort will want to deal with him personally. Riddle basically declared war… if he only let them be arrested instead, this may not have been so bad.”

Ron’s mouth opened a few times as though to refute the claim, but each time he snapped it shut. Soon, he just stared at Hermione as though she would continue but she wrapped her arms around her torso, and her brows pinched in deep thought.

“Who do we tell? Riddle?” asked Ron in a slightly panicking voice. “He’s got to be the only one who can stop  
You-Know-Who but would he help now? I mean, they’re the same person…”

“They’re not the same—” Harry started automatically, then snapped his mouth shut.

Harry was humbled to find he wasn’t sure where the line was drawn with Riddle anymore. Hermione took his sudden troubled expression as if he were upset at Ron. She elbowed Ron once more, before looking apologetically at Harry.

“We know he’s not the same,” Hermione began and before Harry could argue, she continued. “He’s important to you, and he’s protected you. But,” –her eyes darted down to Harry’s chest where the  
black ring lays— “we can’t trust him. Not completely. Not after what he did.”

“I… I know,” Harry muttered, before, “I still need to speak with Riddle. Give him a chance to explain.”

His friends nodded in agreement. Another cheer went up from the group as a second game finished causing Harry to glance up. He spotted Madam Pomfrey starting circle by, and scrambled to cast the  
counter spell to remove _Muffliato_ before they were caught using spells in the Hospital wing. Hermione and Ron straightened, awkwardly pretending they were having a normal conversation. Madam Pomfrey gave an unimpressed look as she approached.

She strode over to Harry and checked him over. He gave her vague answers, hoping she wouldn’t realize his scar was to blame about his state of being. He had enough of that in his fourth and fifth year to last a lifetime. She ordered him to take it easy the next day, but agreed that he could leave the bed with the others when the ban was lifted. Harry felt relieved that he didn’t have to try to sneak out. He doubted the matron would ever let him live it down if he did.

That’s when Harry remembered his invisibility cloak was still in the tower from last night, and almost swore under his breath. He quickly told Ron and Hermione that he would have to get his cloak back from the tower, they agreed to help him when he was ready.

Zachary Smith and a few others tried to circle close to Harry after that. He was lucky that Hermione and Ron’s dirty looks kept them at bay until Flitwick came in, announcing the ban had been lifted and they all should report to the Great Hall for lunch.

“When did you two get here if they put on a curfew and you weren’t injured?” asked Harry.

“When McGonagall came, and told us you were in the hospital wing,” Ron answered.

“We insisted that we be allowed to come stay with you the night,” Hermione said, then smiled at Ron who was already acting bashful. “Ron gave a big speech about it. Really convinced McGonagall so she and Professor Flitwick brought us here last night.”

“Really?” asked Harry with a grin. Ron’s ears turned red.

“Yeah well,” he started with a shrug and not meeting their eyes. “You’re our best friend. Figured you’d want us here if something bad happened.”

Harry felt a burst of warmth in his chest and was embarrassed to find his eyes watering slightly. His hand came up and he pulled Ron into a hug, which only made both their ears turn scarlet. They separated quickly when a few students chuckled, neither of them looking each other in the face, and Hermione had the good grace to look off as though nothing unusual was happening but Harry could see the smile curling at her lips.

Harry had dressed back in his robes, and every student except Malfoy who was still asleep on the bed, was led into the Great Hall for lunch. Harry had the urge to ask Madam Pomfrey what was wrong with the Slytherin, but thought better of it. He didn’t want his friends to ask any questions that could lead to Harry having to explain more on what happened last night.

Many of the students had their heads together in quiet conversations, and the pair of Aurors were guarding the doors. The students filed in and joined the rest of the school that were already seated. The tables were already filled with food, and much of the morning breakfast was almost done. Harry’s eyes went up to the staff table  
instinctively.

Hagrid’s large form was easily spotted at the end, and he appeared to be in a conversation with Sprout. McGonagall was standing in front of the platform with her wand out, and was guiding Ministry members. The table was filled with people now, Harry recognizing many of the Auror uniforms that a line of no less than ten people wore. They stood silently around the room, arms crossed in front, and stern expressions on their faces. The Minister sat down in McGonagall’s chair, right next to Riddle.

Riddle was leaned slightly away from the Minister, his lips pursed, and hands folded on the table. Scrimgeour’s well-worn face was grim as he spoke adamantly towards Riddle. Harry spotted the tall, dark figure of Professor Snape practically a shadow sitting on Riddle’s other side. Even though his face was looking out at the students, Harry was sure he was listening to every word spoken by the pair next to him.  

A distant screech was heard, and most students looked up as easily twice as many owls as usual poured into the room, each clutching a letter in their talons. Ron’s small owl Pig pushed its way through, and flopped down, nearly landing in the custard.  A great barn owl swooped in and dropped the _Daily Prophet_ off for Hermione, who instantly grabbed the paper, and started reading. For once, Harry was interested to see what was written as the bold headline caught his attention immediately.

**HOGWARTS AT WAR?**

“Well, that was fast,” Hermione muttered as she scanned the page. “They’re already reporting on the attack.”

“Let me see!” Harry said, snatching the paper out of Hermione’s hands, who yelped at him. Harry ignored her attempts to get it back, quickly skimming the first article. He skipped all the parts that he knew, and finally found the section he wanted.

_Magnus Thomason the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry cut quite a sight as he approached the Daily Prophet reporters for comment. It reminded this reporter of the previous Headmaster, the late Albus Dumbledore, when he appeared unharmed, and unhampered by his recent brush with the followers (known as Death Eaters) of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He had much to say when asked about the attack._

_“In seemingly impossible way, five members of the group that call themselves Death Eaters, broke into the school late last night. It appeared their mission was to assassinate me, not harm any students. I was able to swiftly take care of the threat, as the Minister has said, and have taken extra precautions to prevent any future attacks.”_

_Thomason informed us of the many charms and spells which will now be stationed at the school, and have already begun being put into place by a group of Aurors brought by the Minister. Their presence will remain at the school for a week while, we are assured, they are preventing any future break-ins._

_“I can assure you all, Hogwarts is still a safe place for children to learn, and practice. This was an attempt to dissuade parents from allowing their children to grow, and protect themselves and I warn any parent from taking them from school. If parents fall for this tactic, then their attack will be a success.”_

Harry continued to search through the article, disappointed that there wasn’t any mention of how the Death Eaters got in, or if any escaped. He handed the paper back to a miffed looking Hermione, who straightened it before reading.

“Has mum gone mental?” asked Ron quietly.

Ginny, who just walked in to sit across from them, slammed her bag on the table, rattling the silverware. Several of the Gryffindors along with a few Hufflepuffs turned at the noise.

“You got a letter too?” she said, pulling out a piece of parchment that was crumpled as though someone balled it up.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“Mum’s gone mental!” Ron looking aghast towards his sister, then back at Harry. “Mum says her and Bill will be coming to take Ginny and me from Hogwarts because she doesn’t feel it’s safe enough! All because of the attack last night.”

“My mom’s saying the same,” said Dean from his seat next to Ginny, waving his own letter. “But, I ain’t going with her. She’s lost it if she thinks our house is more safe than Hogwarts where our Headmaster and Harry took out five Death Eaters by himself.”

“Wait, what?” asked Harry.

“It’s all over school,” Dean continued, already picking out some desserts, and avoiding Harry’s eyes. “Ernie’s been telling everyone you said you’d beat them, then raced to the tower where three Death Eaters were. You went to the hospital wing and the Death Eaters were found dead.”

“I did run into Ernie but I didn’t even fight anyone,” Harry argued, looking around, but everyone at the table appeared to be really interested in their plates. Especially Ron. “Did you think I actually fought and killed three Death Eaters?”

“Well, not killed them,” Ron muttered abashed. “But, it’s not that unbelievable to think you’d run after them.”

“What’s your Gran say, Neville?” asked Ginny loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Oh, Nan says she’s sending me a few books on defense,” Neville added quietly, his eyes still on his own letter, and his cheeks turning red. “Says, I’m old enough to defend myself, and should be after our trip to the Ministry. She says I should use the new wand she bought me this summer to good use.” A pause, and Neville’s face grew redder. He mumbled, “And she’s proud of me for staying.”

“Well, good on her!” Ginny exclaimed with passion. “Your Nan’s got more sense than our parents, that’s for sure!”

“Ron, I’m sure your dad will talk some sense into your mom. These past few months have been hard,” Hermione assured Ron, patting him on the shoulder.

Ron grabbed his bag, pulled out his quill, and starting writing a reply which didn’t look like it was going to be pleasant by the speed he was writing. Before the ink even dried he rolled it up and gave it to his owl Pig.

“Don’t bring back a reply if she’s angry,” Ron instructed Pig. The little owl screeched as though acknowledging the order before taking off in his energetic flight.

“Did you say I’m not going, too?” asked Ginny.

“Yes,” answered Ron as though asking her to challenge.

“Good,” Ginny gave a firm nod and began eating.

The murmurs of students slowly died out as Riddle stood up. He approached the podium and regarded the students all peering up at him.

“I know many of you have heard the news of the attack that occurred last night,” he began, lacking his grand gestures. “I am pleased to say no student or faculty member died, despite the Death Eater’s best efforts. I want all of you to know you are safe at Hogwarts even if it feels less secure this morning. We have already been attacked by the enemy and they have not succeeded. We have.”

Several students applauded at the announcement, many excited to hear that an attack was fended off. It was mainly first and second years, but Harry could see many of the older students understanding what else was said. There was an attack inside Hogwarts, and that should never be applauded.

“Classes will resume in two days,” Riddle continued, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “Those students whose parents will come to pick them up, should meet in here this evening one hour before dinner.”

Without any flare, or dismissal, Riddle left the Great Hall with the Minister in tow. A few of the Aurors filed out with them in a paired line, while the majority stayed in the hall, not moving from their spots. Hagrid and Sprout were among the teachers who had turned to watch the procession, neither looking thrilled. McGonagall merely went up to the staff table and took her proper seat, her face tense. Snape, meanwhile, stood up, nodded towards his fellow staff before slinking off to follow the group.

It took a few seconds before the silence was broken and the murmuring began anew.

Harry spent much of the afternoon watching the marauder’s map. The set of footprints he kept his eyes on were Riddle’s. Harry hoped that he could find the Headmaster alone at some point during the day but it didn’t take long to figure out the Minister wasn’t going to leave Riddle’s side. Even during the few times where Riddle was in his study, the Minister or Aurors were in the office leading to the study. The tower, where Harry figured his cloak must be, was also swarming with Aurors most of the day, though finally started clearing up later in the day.

The evening fell sooner than expected. Like many of the Gryffindors, Harry sat in the common room while a few students gathered their things. Two first years, and a second were heading home, while Colin Creevey proclaimed loudly that he wasn’t going anywhere. His younger brother Dennis, stood by his side, excitedly nodding along. Harry managed to muster up a smile when the Creevey brothers said they felt safer when Harry was going to stay. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell them the rumors of him beating any Death Eaters last night were not true.

A girl from Ravenclaw came into the common room and hugged a first-year Gryffindor girl who was tearfully packing to go home. The two girls left without a word to anyone else. Harry wanted to tell them to stay, but couldn’t bring himself to move. Instead, he focused back on the map, growing frustrated at the lack of options. That’s when he spotted the tower, and its hallway, where void of people for the first time today.

Hermione was fiddling with her quill, attempting to do homework, while Ron joined a group of fifth years playing chess in the corner. Harry didn’t have to ask to know they felt just as helpless as he felt. He took another glance at the map, noticing the group still hadn’t left Riddle’s office but no one was heading to the tower, before tucking it away. Hermione’s eyes found his, and Ron stood up, heading over.

The trio left the common room, and went down the stairs towards the long hallway that connected many of the towers.

“The map shows no one near the tower, and there hasn’t been for the last hour,” said Harry when they were alone. “Can you two be look outs, while I search?”

“Of course,” said Ron at once, sounding excited. He nudged Hermione with a smile.

“Yes, we can do that,” Hermione answered, tucking a hair behind her ear.

They made their way through the nearly empty hallways towards the astronomy tower. The torches were beginning to light as the sun was setting over the school. A few students that were wandering the halls traveled in close groups, all heading downstairs to the Great Hall. Harry was dismayed to see trunks amongst some of them, knowing that they were heading to danger, not away from it.

Hermione pushed Harry and Ron into a dark corner just before Nearly Headless Nick floated by, his head bobbling worse than usual as he took guard for a group of students. They waited until the shuffling of feet echoed from the main staircase before continuing.

The landing that led up to the tower was roped off with a sign warning anyone from trespassing.

“I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes,” whispered Harry.

“We’ll try to make noise if there’s someone coming,” Hermione said.

“I’ll tell ‘em we were asked to watch and prevent anyone from going up,” Ron said with a smirk, flashing his Prefect badge. Hermione looked like she wanted to argue using his authority incorrectly, but shrugged.

“Good luck,” Hermione said, patting Harry’s shoulder. She and Ron told up positions on either end of the hallway. They gave Harry the thumbs up when the coast was clear.

Harry ducked under the ropes and quickly made his way up the stairs. He slowed as he reached the top, taking deeper breaths as it was quite a climb, and felt his heart almost stop in his chest. There was a figure standing in the middle of the room, right where Riddle had stood the night before. Harry felt his mouth dry, for half a second wondering if Riddle had known his plans, and was waiting for him in the tower, before his eyes adjusted in the low light.

The figure was dark robed figure, and had shoulder length greasy hair.

Harry took a quiet step backwards, aware of any sounds he made now.

“No need to turn back now, Potter,” said Snape, not even turning around to check. “You’re already in trouble, you might as well come up here for whatever it is.”     

Silence fell between the two of them while Harry debated on what to do. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Snape was right. If he was already in trouble at least he could do was look for his cloak. Hopefully Snape would let him retrieve it before he was dragged out of the tower. Harry took the last few steps up to the tower, his eyes quickly darting around the dark corners for his cloak.  

Snape slowly turned, a slightly raised eyebrow at Harry’s blatant searching.

“If you lost something during your foolhardy attempt at being the hero, I’m pleased to say the Ministry most  
likely confiscated it unless, you’re looking for your ridiculous cloak,” Snape said with an unpleasant smile. “Our Headmaster has taken a liking to it, and has it in his office. Though, one would think an important thing would be kept safe if one did not want to lose it.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Get yourself killed? And yet,” Snape interrupted, that smile falling for a more serious expression. The Defense teacher took a step, pulled out his wand which made Harry instinctively flinch, and Snape flicked his wand towards the archway behind Harry. A shimmering door formed, and with another gesture, “ _Muffliato_ ” the room was now private.

Harry’s eyes went to the door, and his heart hammering against his rib cage. The reaction was so strong not because he felt trapped, because no matter how much he disliked Snape, Harry knew he was safe, but the spell. The only people who knew about the _Muffliato_ spell were his friends, and the Prince… the potion’s book Harry had been using to exceed in lessons. But, Harry’s mind refused to connect the dots, as Harry liked the Prince, there was no way he could be Snape.

“What, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish by befriending Riddle?” Snape asked bluntly, his hands crossing in front of him, squaring out his shoulders to look even more imposing.

“This may surprise you,” Harry replied sarcastically, “but I was hoping for a friend.”

“I see a night in the hospital wing certainly hasn’t curbed your lip,” Snape sneered, taking a step towards Harry. Harry refused to back down but felt the need to grab his wand. Snape stopped outside of arm’s length, allowing some room, but his height advantage was clearly noted. “Do you think he’ll take care of all the Death Eaters for you? Kill the Dark Lord? Save the wizarding world?”

“I don't become friends with people based on what they can do for me, if that's what you're implying,” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Clearly,” Snape said, his voice punctuated at the end. “I can hardly see the use of an insufferable know-it-all,  
and the least skilled Weasley and apparently so can you.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry clenched his teeth.

“Oh, I just couldn’t help but notice how you’ve been charging off on your own lately, chasing after the headmaster’s robes,” Snape’s lips curled. “I always suspected the ‘Chosen One’ would outgrow his little followers. After all, when you have the favor of the most powerful wizard in the world there’s no need for Granger or Weasely.”

Harry pinched his lips, refusing to reply as the anger boiled up in his veins. The last two times he engaged the defense teacher, Harry was bested and sent running along like a child. He struggled to take a calming breath though it did little to loosen the fury coiling in his chest.

“I wonder…” Snape said slowly. “How many of your friends will survive the next encounter with the Death Eaters? Maybe you keep hiding in the headmaster’s shadow because you’re afraid, Potter. Afraid your little friends won’t be able to defend themselves.”

“You would think,” Harry fumed. “Being the _defense teacher_ , you would be responsible for teaching them to _defend_ themselves.”

“Unfortunately, not all students can be taught,” Snape began as though Harry didn’t speak. “It’s a shame so many didn’t make it into my NEWT classes this year. So many of them could use a teacher, as I doubt many will survive the next few months.”

Before Harry was even aware of it, his wand was in his hands, pointing at the man in front of him. Harry could barely hear anything but the roaring of his blood in his ears. He opened his mouth to curse, hex, or just shout at the man in front of him, when his vision narrowed to a speck. His forehead burst forth with pain, and his stomach flipped.

“What do you think you’re going to use that wand for? As much as I would like to teach you...” Snape sneered, but to Harry it seemed he was down a hallway now. Snape continued to berate him, but his voice drifted off just like his vision, and within the span of a single breath, Harry was in a dark room.

He wasn’t the only person feeling angry tonight.

Voldemort paced in front of a Death Eater, the fury rolling off the Dark Lord was almost tangible, and the cowering man lowered himself. It did not save him though. Voldemort was greatly displeased at the failed attempt to assassinate the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and such a slight would not be taken lightly.

The man begged, and the yew wand flicked. _Crucio_.

The room came back to him, and Harry shuddered. His skin felt sticky from the sweat that started pouring the moment him and Voldemort connected for that moment before he was shut out. Snape looked less unsure, a hand slightly out stretched as though to grasp the wand that had already lowered.  

The anger mixed with the lingering pain from the connection in Harry’s stomach, and his back of his mouth tasted of bile. Harry moved his tongue around, trying to rid himself of the taste, and his eyes met the man in front of him.

“I hope you enjoy your next meeting with Voldemort,” Harry hissed, his victory feeling hallow even if Snape paled slightly at the insinuation.

“I never do,” Snape all but whispered. He waved his wand over the shimmering door.

Harry took a few shaky steps towards the archway, overcome with exhaustion from his brief connection to Voldemort. Just before he made it to the first step, Snape spoke once more.

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor,” he said quietly. “For trespassing.”

Harry didn’t even bother glaring at the man, instead he marched down the stairs, meeting Hermione and Ron. He ignored their questions until he put at least a few hallways between Snape and himself. His anger calmed enough that his hands stopped trembling, but by the looks on his friend’s faces, he didn’t appear any better.

His thoughts stormed together, but there was one thing Harry knew for certain after his argument with Snape. If everyone was going to survive Voldemort, they needed as much help as they could get. He paused in the hallway, and turned to his friends.

“We’re starting the D.A. again,” Harry announced.                                                                                                                                                                                           

 

 


	11. Chaos in the Great Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I do want to apologize for taking so long to put out this chapter. I live in America, so you can imagine the last few weeks I've had. I really wanted to refine this chapter again, but I figured all of you have waited long enough. Do not be surprised if I come back in another day or so, and revise some of it.
> 
> I'll try to get the next one out sooner, but I make no promises. This story will be complete, of that I have no worry about, but it may take some time. Thank you for understanding.

 

The trio shuffled their way up to the Gryffindor tower, as a few students were leaving towards the Great Hall with trunks in hand. Harry doubted he ever saw such sad looks upon his fellow Gryffindors. Many of them were hanging their heads, not daring to look up and face their housemates. The only exceptions were Colin and Dennis Creevy.

Colin was holding onto his brother's trunk, and pointing animatedly towards the boy's dormitory, while Dennis was flushed, shaking his head, and trying hard to pull his trunk from his older brother. Hermione walked towards them, causing both boys to drop the trunk which let out a loud thump as it fell.

Ron tugged on Harry's robes, pulling him towards to tower. Harry cast a glance over his shoulder at Hermione who was now probably lecturing Colin on personal property. He didn't envy them in the least, having been on the receiving end of Hermione's lectures before. He almost wanted to tell Colin not to argue with her, but followed Ron upstairs instead.

Dean and Seamus where in the room when they entered, both boys pausing when Ron and Harry entered. Harry's eyes found the folded clothes, and the two open trunks on the floor, and his heart dropped into his stomach. The walls around their beds were cleared of the Quidditch and Football posters that have been a staple in the room since first year.

"I don't want to go," Dean mumbled, nudging Seamus.

"I'm not planning on leaving either," Seamus said, shrugging and shifting his weight. "My mum's got a bit of a hard head, so I have the trunk ready in case I can't convince her… but I don't want to leave."

"It's alright," said Harry, as he swallowed thickly. "You don't have to explain to me."

"But, we do!" Dean almost shouted, throwing his robes down, and making everyone flinch. "We all know You-Know-Who is attacking Hogwarts because Dumbledore's gone, and you're here." –Harry flinched once more at that, feeling horrid— "but we also know, even if you weren't here, he'd attack the school eventually. At least this way, we know to keep our guard up."

"Thanks…" Harry replied, nodding, and a numbness started to spread from his stomach as his scar prickled.

"You don't have to make it all so grim," Ron complained, sitting on his bed. "We do have Aurors here now, and Ri- er, Headmaster Thomason is here."

"He's so twitchy though," Seamus said with his nose wrinkled. At the looks from his fellow Gryffindors, he hastily added, "But, he's powerful, too. I took Transfiguration last year… it was Dumbledore's subject too, yeah?"

Harry frowned in thought. He remembered reading Dumbledore's obituary about his earlier career in Hogwarts. He was a teacher before being a Headmaster, and it was Transfigurations. Harry wondered if there was a connection between being good at the subject and being a powerful wizard. If so, he had a wild thought that perhaps McGonagall was far more impressive than he imagined, which was saying something as she was already quite foreboding.

"That's right, he was," Ron said with a nod. "And Thomason can do all that without a wand."

"I heard he doesn't have a wand," Seamus practically whispered, seemingly forgetting about packing as he moved closer to gossip. Dean followed, both boys flanking Ron's bed. "The way I hear it, he took out all those Death Eaters with a snap of his fingers."

To demonstrate, Seamus snapped his own two inches from Ron's nose, and Dean looked impressed. Though, Harry could see Ron almost buying the story just with the sheer bravado Seamus had relied the rumor.

"He has a wand," Harry said with authority, causing all of them to look over. Without thinking, Harry rattled off. "He did take out all the Death Eaters by himself though, but he's nervous because he doesn't like having that power. It's part of the reason he twitches so much."

Harry's mouth snapped shut, as he felt almost a wash of cold go over him. He hadn't realized he figured that out about Riddle until he said it aloud. Riddle was completely aware of the horrible things he was capable of, every second of the day. Unlike everyone else, Riddle had living proof of how horrendous his power could be without a strong hold over it. Voldemort was a walking, breathing, reminder of that threat, of what could be to Riddle, and Riddle… had to live with that knowledge every day.

It must be worse when Riddle has done something he knows is wrong… with Umbridge he kept away from Harry, twitchier than before… and now… he could hardly be in the same room. Harry wondered if that was the reason Snape had brought him to the hospital wing instead of Riddle. Could Riddle not even stand himself at this moment?

Harry's thoughts were broken when Dean spoke.

"That's right!" Dean exclaimed with wide eyes. "He's your dad now, isn't he?"

"Legal guardian," Harry muttered, feeling annoyed that everyone assumes he could quickly forget he had parents before. Normally, Harry would have been furious, but the revelation was still fresh in his mind, and he found he couldn't muster up the energy. Dean had the good grace to mutter an apology though.

"The Headmaster trained Harry over the summer," Ron said, puffing out his own chest as though passing off one of his own achievements. "It's part of the reason I'm excited that we're starting—."

Ron opened his mouth to say more, but Ginny came into the dormitory holding a red letter in her hands, and her eyes puffy, as though she had been crying. All four boys turned to her, and Harry's heart nearly shriveled in his chest at the state Ginny was in.

"Ron," Ginny said in a quivering voice. "Pack. Mum's coming."

One hour later found Harry, and many of the students of Hogwarts sitting in the Great Hall as Mrs. Weasley lectured her two children. Harry and Hermione sat side by side as they cast looks towards one another, wanting to assist their friend, however Mrs. Weasley was a force to be reckoned with when she was upset. Unfortunately for them, she was very, very upset.

"And that letter you sent—don't you dare speak! —you'd better be happy I'm not hexing soap in your mouth right this instant!" Mrs. Weasley shouted red in the face, and her index finger pointing threateningly at Ron's face. Even though Ron was almost a head taller than his mother now, he appeared smaller the longer the shouting went on. "And you haven't even packed! You're lucky I don't drag you up the stairs by your ear, Ron Weasley!"

The hall was not quiet even without Mrs. Weasley. Several other parents were arguing with their children. Two Hufflepuffs were attempting to challenge their parents, one of them even sitting on their trunk as though refusing to budge. Harry could see the stern faces of the Davies, his mother looked the perfect likeness to the Hogwarts Governor that had come over the summer to inspect Riddle. Roger was faring better, as he was almost seventeen, and was stating he could make his own choices. Harry wanted to cheer for him, if only to get away from the argument happening only a few feet from him.

"I'm not going," declared Seamus Finnigan to his worried mother. She was elegantly dressed in tartan robes much like McGonagall, her red hair tightly braided, and put into a bun.

"You're under-aged," she clipped, pulling out a delicately decorated wand of ash wood from her robes. "You'll be coming weather you want to or not."

"And what happens if Death Eaters come to our house?" he argued back, crossing his arms. Like Ron, he was a head taller than his mother, but he stood up straight. "Are we really going to be enough to fight them?"

"Why would they come to our house?" she asked.

"Because I'm friends with Harry, that's why," Seamus announced, his eyes darting over to where Harry sat. Seamus's mother turned slightly, her face paling as she followed his gaze. For the first time, her posture stiffened. Seamus reached out, and held his mother's hand. "I'm safer here, mum. I swear it."

"You're not friends with him, how could you be? He's trouble," Mrs. Finnigan said sternly, her eyes narrowing at Harry, but before Harry could dare to reply, Mrs. Weasley had rounded.

"And what," she started in a tone that was usually reserved for Fred and George. "is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," said the taller woman with confidence, though she paused in her thoughts before continuing. "From what I have heard, Potter has a bit of a small circle of friends. Seamus never once mentioned being close to him," –she nodded towards Harry, who felt gob smacked— "and I assure you, my son does not associate with rule breakers."

"Yes, it must be hard," Mrs. Weasley patted a terrified looking Ron on the shoulder, and she smiled at him as though they were having a normal conversation but her voice was raised to carry through the hall. "Being friends with the boy who defied You-Know-Who three times, is Quidditch captain, and one of the sweetest boys I've ever known, Ron."

"I…" Ron stammered but his voice was cut off from Dean's mother speaking even louder towards her own son.

"Yes, not being friends with a boy who goes off to the Ministry in the middle of the night, endangering many of his classmates," she said snidely as she smoothed out Seamus's hair. He shrugged her off, quietly begging her to stop.

"Oh, Harry _dear_ ," Mrs. Weasley called sweetly, and Harry pushed himself back slightly away, but Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. He felt slightly betrayed as he sat like a deer in headlights, now being the center of attention. "It must be difficult to have actually trustworthy, loyal, friends to stay with you all year, unlike _others_."

"And that is why you're taking your children away?" asked Mrs. Finnigan loudly, no longer pretending to be speaking to her son. Her hands placed firmly on her hips, and her nose pointed up. "Dementors, Giants, a monster under the castle, and now Death Eaters attacking at night? I'm proud to see so many of us came to our senses before a child dies this year. It's clear no one believes this school to be safe if _Harry Potter_ is here."

"RON!" Mrs. Weasley grabbed her son by the shoulder, and he whimpered slightly, she stuck a finger near his face. "You're going to stay here in Hogwarts! You've got to stay and look after your friends. It's what any true Gryffindor would do! Gryffindors are brave! We don't run from a bit of danger!"

Harry didn't get to hear the reply, as a crack echoed through the hall. Everyone turned to see a frumpy, round wizard with thinning hair fall to the ground as his presuming son marched off with his trunk. A thin woman wrapped in a salmon colored robe called after the Gryffindor student, who didn't bother to look back, only left the Great Hall with a determined expression.

"Good on you!" shouted Dean, clapping for the student that had left, his parents watching with appalled expressions. Dean stood on a bench, and cupped his hands to bellow out, "Right, you heard what Ron's mum said! We're Gryffindors! We're staying!"

The other Gryffindors in the room cheered at that announcement, their parents all looking rather horrified. The Creevy brothers were the loudest in their cheers, joining Dean standing on benches. The two Hufflepuff students, Harry recognized as Ernie MacMillan, and Hannah Abbott, were staring at the Gryffindors, before giving each other a glance, before jumping up on benches themselves. They nearly drowned out the cheering Gryffindors.

"Hufflepuffs are just and loyal!" Ernie announced proudly. "We don't run because things become difficult! We're staying with our friends!"

"Ravenclaws are staying!" Roger Davies shouted, though he didn't hop on a bench. Instead, he stood tall, with his shoulders squared. "We came to learn and test our wit! We will not be cowed into leaving a place of learning!"

Dean, and the Creevy brothers starting clapping, and hooting when new students joined them. It didn't take long before the whole hall erupted into a sparkle of rebellion. Each house chanted their respective name, and declared they were staying. The parents attempted in vain to get their children to behave, but once the idea struck that this was a matter of house pride, it seemed no one was going to back down. Dean even pulled Seamus up on a bench, and they dodged Seamus's mother who kept trying to grab their robes. A Hufflepuff jumped in the way, allowing them to escape her grasp long enough for Mrs. Finnigan to give up.

Roger Davies gave his mother a hug, before grabbing his trunk, and leaving the hall through the chaos that hall had erupted in while he mother watched.

"Molly, what a pleasant surprise," said a silky voice from Harry's other side.

Harry spun around so quickly a muscle in his neck hurt. Riddle stood a few feet from Mrs. Weasley, who had stopped her rant to watch the mayhem happening around her. Ron and Ginny took a step away from their mother and Riddle, while Hermione pressed her shoulder closer to Harry. Ron's eyes darted from Riddle to Harry, then back. None of them expected Riddle to show up. Especially Harry.

"Oh, hello Magnus," Mrs. Weasley flushed pink.

"I see you started a little rebellion in the school?" Riddle questioned, his hands clasped behind his back, and his expression pleasant. Even so, Ron tugged on Ginny's elbow, pulling her discreetly away from their mother. "I wonder, you came to retrieve your children from the school. What changed your mind?"

"Well, I—I," she stammered, fussing with her dress. It was evident to Harry that this was the first-time Mrs. Weasley remembered that taking Ron and Ginny from school would be a move that told Riddle she didn't think he could protect her children. "It's just what Ginny and Ron would want," –she glanced over at her children, who nodded—"and I try to listen to them."

Harry could hear Ginny snort, but she pulled it off as a cough when Mrs. Weasley side eyed her.

"I see," he casually began, his head lifted, and turned around the room. The Great Hall's once great roar had settled to a hum, as many of the parents looked towards the Headmaster. Even with Riddle barely speaking above a conversational tone, everyone heard him clearly. Riddle's head turned as though looking for someone. "Is Arthur or your son Bill not here?"

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley stood a little taller. "I've come by myself. I can choose what happens to my own children."

"Yes, of course," Riddle replied at once with a nod. "If you need any security on your way home, please let me know."

Without glancing at Harry, Riddle moved on to the next group. Harry felt himself tense, wanting to leap up from his seat and drag Riddle out of the hall. The rest of the hall became a buzzing noise in Harry's ears as he concentrated on following Riddle with his eyes, and his scar started to prickle again. Harry refused to rub it, though he could see Riddle pause mid stride as though he felt the same, before moving on to greet a family.

Hiding in a small corner of the room was a dark haired second year Slytherin, with two women. One of the women was kneeling, speaking quietly to the boy, and the other stood crossing her arms. The boy shook his head a few times, making the standing woman turn her head towards the ceiling. Riddle had approached them, and the two women greeted him quite fondly.

Ginny shook Harry's shoulder, and he was forced to turn away from Riddle, back to the Weasleys. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were talking in snipping whispers to each other. Ginny sat down on Harry's other side, and Harry tried very hard to focus on the hall instead of the warmth. It certainly didn't help when she leaned in close to whisper.

"I think she's about out of steam now," Ginny's breath danced across Harry's ear, and made him shiver. Harry nodded stiffly. "You know, after shouting how we all need to stay, and everything."

"And it's a good thing. Everyone looks to be staying," said Hermione, who of course, was paying attention to everyone.

"Oh—good," Harry replied.

The hall was thinning out now, with a lot of parents standing idly by as they waited to return home. Hermione appeared to be correct as many of the Gryffindors were heading back into the castle. Harry was glad to see more than a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws also convinced their parents to let them stay. Especially after all the chanting everyone had done, it only seemed far to allow them.

Colin Creevy was finally off the bench, but wasn't the least bit shamed faced at his behavior, with his brother giving a familiar admiring expression up at him. Harry huffed a laugh, wondering if Colin will have to deal with his little brother hero worshipping him now, and Harry's eyes met with Dean's. Ginny shifted and Harry could feel every bit of their bodies that connected like a live wire. Harry's eyes dropped down to his shoes, and his cheeks warm as though Dean could tell what he was thinking. Last Harry had heard, Ginny and Dean were together.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall stepped in just as stern as ever. The conversations hushed as she looked over her glasses at the crowd.

"Attention everyone," she began. "We have carriages awaiting any parents and their children that need a way back into Hogsmeade. Please, gather your items and form a line in the center of the room so we may assist with travel in a safe manner."

Mrs. Weasley and Ron looked at each other for a few moments. Then, Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and swept Ron into a crushing hug that surprised everyone.

"You'd best look after Ginny for me Ronald, or so help me," she said with tears in her eyes.

"I promise," Ron mumbled, still crushed against his mother, and his face turning as red as his hair.

Mrs. Weasley kissed Ginny on the cheek before pulling her into a hug as well. Harry and Hermione also received some of her affection before she lined up with the other parents. The line barely contained any students at all. From what Harry could see, what once was going to be a large group of students leaving, now was just two. A Hufflepuff, and a Ravenclaw, both looked to be first years.

"Follow me to the carriages," McGonagall announced, and Harry could tell she was pleased with the lower number. Mrs. Weasley stanchly remained forward, as though glancing back would break her resolve.

Everyone seemed to be watching the students leave, but Harry felt the prickle on the back of his neck as though someone were staring at him. He turned to see the back of Riddle disappearing through the back door to the hall, his robes billowing in his wake.

"So," Ron started, taking his seat by Hermione. "I guess it's a good thing you're starting the D.A. again."

"You are?" asked Ginny excitedly.

"Oh—er yeah," Harry answered.

"We should ask if we can make it an official club this year," said Hermione. "I'm sure a lot more people can join since it'll be in the open, and we can get a bigger room."

"Wait, more people?" Harry cringed. He rather thought the amount before was a lot.

"Well, of course," nodded Ginny, and she waved Dean over to them. "Hey Dean, you want to join the D.A. again?"

"The D.A.?" Dean asked surprised. "That would be brilliant! When are we meeting again?"

"Did someone say D.A. meetings?" Colin Creevy asked loudly from a few feet away, his face still flushed from all his cheering. Many of the students had turned in attention. A student in the distance asked what the D.A. was, and Colin boastfully shouted, "The Defense club Harry Potter teaches!"

"Just a moment," Harry said, springing to his feet causing a few students who were making their way over to pause. "This is a little too fast, don't you think?"

"Nonsense," Hermione waved off his concern. She stood up as well with a smile on her face. "I already have all the organization planning done from last year, so that will be easy. Also, the coins still work, so I can alert everyone."

"I can rally the Hufflepuffs," said Ginny, moving over to join Hermione. "I know a few that have been asking about the D.A. since school started. It'll be easy to spread the word."

"Oh, and I can ask the prefects if they can announce it to their houses," Hermione added on excitedly.

Harry and Ron eyed each other. Neither of them had thought past just saying it was started, but the girls were certainly ten steps ahead of them. Soon, buzz of them talking about the D.A. caught on in the Great Hall, and every student left behind waiting for dinner, came over. Harry's head was practically spinning at the questions being asked around him. It felt like the day they formed the D.A. in the Hog's Head.

"Excuse me," asked a quiet voice from behind Harry. Harry turned to see the small Slytherin boy whose Mothers were fretting over. His eyes stayed locked on Harry's, though he looked ready to run at a moment's notice.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"I want to join your defense club," the Slytherin announced.

"Why?" asked Ron, butting into the conversation. His hands placed on his hips, and puffing out his chest, the way he usually did around first years to get them to run, but Harry had to admire the smaller boy for glaring instead.

"Because I want to learn defense," he firmly stated.

"You know," Ron began casually. "If you're trying to spy on us, it won't work. We're going to make it an official club."

"And official clubs must take members from other houses," glared the Slytherin boy, and Harry started to like him despite himself. Harry was reminded of a kitten, puffed up and taking swipes at larger animals, and the boy's cherub face was certainly not helping.

"You can join," Harry said, holding out his hand. Ron's eyes bugged out, and the Slytherin boy watched Harry's outstretched hand with suspicion, before reaching forward, and shaking it.

"We don't really have to shake for me to join your club," said the boy, his cheeks turning slightly pink as they parted.

"Yeah well…," Harry started, then shrugged. "As the first Slytherin to join the club, you get the honor." A pause. "What's your name?"

"Alfie Quinn," answered the boy.

"I know you," Ron began with a slightly smile. "You're the one who set Filch's coat on fire last year."

"He stuck that blimey stone in my face because my mum keeps sending me chocolates from Hogsmeade," Alfie said indigently. "Filch thinks he's slick, but I caught two candies missing after his inspection, with a few others talking about how things have gone missing from their things, and put it together."

"Well," Ron said, beaming. "If we had to take a Slytherin, we got the best in the lot."

Alfie turned almost as red as Ron's hair.

Harry expected the crowd to die down when dinner time started, and the other students came in, but it only grew. Before the teachers even sat down, it felt like everyone in the hall was talking about the group. Harry could sense the eyes on him from all directions, and had trouble eating knowing everyone was watching him. It also felt like every Gryffindor has patted him on the back, as though he won a Quidditch game, and snippets of talking about the D.A. filtered through to Harry.

When he glanced up at the staff table, even most of the teachers were looking at him. McGonagall had a peculiar smile on her face, nodding at him when she caught him looking. Snape's eyes seemed to bore into Harry as though he was aware of Harry's intentions. Harry just glared back until another teacher trying to converse when Snape pulled his attention away. Though, Harry did refuse to look at Riddle, even if he felt the warm eyes on him through most of the dinner.

Harry didn't even have to worry about catching McGonagall in the halls, or her office to ask about the D.A. as she came to him. Harry was about to head to the library to research more on the Elder Wand that he overheard from Voldemort, when the head of Gryffindor approached him.

"Potter," she started, dressed in wonderfully emerald tartan patterned robes. "I assume you were coming to ask me about starting a defense club."

"Er—yeah," he answered, completely caught off guard. "I mean yes, Professor."

"I'm pleased to inform you, that our Headmaster, and myself agree on allowing you to head this club, despite your priorities with being Quidditch captain," McGonagall peered at him over her spectacles. "Which, I take it you've thought about setting time between the two, already."

"Of course," Harry nodded, feeling his heart drop in his stomach. He barely thought past forming the club again, let along worrying about his classes, and Quidditch.

"We do have one condition," she continued, pulling out a scroll from her robes. "You'll have oversight by a Professor, who will ensure the safety of those joining the club, and assisting with planning lessons."

"Sounds fair."

"Professor Snape has already agreed," said McGonagall.

"Snape?!" Harry practically shouted, his fists clenching.

"Professor Snape," corrected McGonagall, her fierce gaze pinned on Harry. She held out the scroll. "It is either this, or you will not be allowed. As Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape is a natural choice to assist with these lessons." –she slowly pulled the scroll away— "Of course, we could always allow Professor Snape to teach the club by himself."

"No!" Harry snatched the scroll, feeling his ears heat up at the look he received for his actions. "No, I can… work with him."

"Then it's settled," McGonagall finished in a business-like tone. "I expect to not hear any complaints on your ability to work with others, Mr. Potter."

Before she left though, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently squeezed it. Besides his best friends, McGonagall was the person who understood the mutual hate that was shared between Snape and Harry. She had saved him from Snape's wrath more times than Harry could count, but Harry didn't think she saw the ex-potion's master for what he really was.

A horrid man who would never change his ways.

Harry only nodded, worried if he spoke again he might say something he would regret. It wasn't until McGonagall was almost out of sight that Harry opened the scroll to see what was inside. It was permission signed by Headmaster 'M. R. Thomason' and already showed Harry as co-captain with Snape. Harry was proud of himself for not crumpling up the scroll immediately though he did think about chasing McGonagall down to decline the offer, and starting the club in secrete again.

Harry would either send most of them away, or find a way to get most of Hogwarts's students into a room without a single teacher noticing. Either way, it would be impossible to do. He was just fortunate enough that he didn't have Defense for another three days, so he could prepare himself.

At least, he hoped he could.


	12. Letters

 

Harry spent two days on the verge of pulling out his hair by the root, as he viciously crossed out another set of schedules on the arm length parchment. Ink had spilled across the table twice, and while a simple wave of his wand would clean it, Harry was too busy bemoaning over his poor planning skills. He just couldn't see a way to fit in all the studying for his NEWT classwork, Quidditch practice, and D.A. lessons. His scar aching with each heartbeat was not helping him concentrate either. He rubbed at his forehead in agitation.

The only redeeming quality to the situation was that since the attack Gryffindors have been traveling in groups across the school, meaning most of them were out of the tower. The gold and scarlet room was still cozy, as a few tables have been brought together for studying groups, and Harry eyed the pile of pillows stacked in front of the fireplace more than once. He hoped the fall wind from the lake would cool the tower enough to lay in them, but for now, his robes still clung to him in the afternoon heat.

Harry called it quits on schedule for the time being, and pulled out a fresh parchment. The one thing he excelled at the year before was planning for D.A. lessons. He found it easier to recall what he taught the year before, than trying to work a schedule.

The best thing he could do was a refresher course for those returning to the D.A. and probably something simple for the newly joined members. Harry scribbled 'refresher' and 'disarming charms' as his first lesson. He wasn't sure what else he could add, as he usually understood teaching best when actively in the room, however… his eyes darted towards the stairs leading into the boy's dormitory. The scroll McGonagall gave him clearly stated Harry would need to write the entire lesson out for Snape to approve at least 24 hours prior to the meetings.

Before Harry could scribble out some buffering information, Hermione came in through the portrait clutching her most recent book haul from the library.

"Oh, there you are!" she said, quickly coming over with a smile. Harry didn't have enough time to hide all the parchments he ruined with ink, as Hermione's keen eyes spotted the mess. "I see you've been… busy."

"Yeah, real busy," Harry muttered.

"You've got ink on your forehead," Hermione pointed to her own head, presumably where ink covered his, and she barely containing her smile.

Harry reached up automatically to try and rub it away, but when Hermione let out a laugh, he knew he only made it worse. Before he grew frustrated, Hermione pulled his hand away, and with a flick of her wand, the ink was gone.

"There," she was still smiling as she released his wrist. "Now, you're respectable again."

"Thanks," he grumbled, about to rub his eyes, then looked at his hands. Fresh ink dotted his fingers. He dropped them on the table. "This was so easy last year. I just planned in my head, showed up, and taught. Why is it so difficult to just write it down?"

"You know," she started, pulling up a stool to sit at the table. She plopped down and neatly placed the books in her lap. "I could help."

"I thought you wanted me to do this on my own?" Harry questioned.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, just as confused.

"You're always telling Ron and me off for asking on homework," he shrugged.

"Well, this is different," Hermione asserted with a nod of her head. "This, is about defense for the whole school, not you two copying off my work."

Harry's ears warmed. He normally didn't copy her work, that was more Ron, but he did hear Hermione's voice in his head when writing his essays. He would take that little detail to his grave before admitting it though.

"What have you got so far?" she asked, sounding very business-like.

"I figured," –Harry fidgeted in his chair— "I'd refresh the old students, and then teach disarming to the new?"

"The refreshing is good," Hermione nodded again. She reached forward and snatched the parchment Harry just started to work on, her eyes narrowing at the small scribbling at top. She grabbed the quill from his hands, "I think an introductory is needed, as this is the first lesson."

"Right," Harry said, watching her go to work on the parchment. He started reading her scrawl upside down, and noticed a pattern… a lot of it was quotes from his first meeting with the D.A., when talking about defense. "Did you remember everything I said last year?"

"Not everything," she replied, still scribbling.

"You don't have to write that," Harry argued, warmth spreading through his chest though at the thought that Hermione chose to remember what he said, like one of the many famous authors she read about.

"I know that," Hermione snipped, her nose only a few inches from the parchment, never slowly as she responded. "But, Professor Snape wasn't there for our meetings last year. He's going to need to know what you want to say, and what you're planning for the lesson. If you leave this out, he'll not approve it, then we'll have to move the meeting out."

Harry couldn't argue with her logic.

"Should we keep an updated list of members?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes!" Hermione perked up with a smile. "It'll help us keep track of what grade everyone is in, and help with lesson planning."

"I was thinking we could leave off the hexing on this list though," Harry added with a smirk, enjoying the blush that crept across Hermione's face.

It didn't take long before they filled the first lesson up, and Harry thought it was ready for approval. He was tempted to keep the lesson away from Snape as long as possible, so he couldn't make any adjustments, but Hermione talked him out of it. She made a point of saying Snape would most likely halt lessons until his changes were made, and that would put the meetings off to a rocky start.

That was when Harry remembered his schedule planning. He still hadn't picked a date for the D.A. meetings to start, what day they would be, and time. Not to mention, he still had to plan Quidditch tryouts, and then practice.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Harry snapped back into the present, not realizing he had drifted off.

"oh, er… just worried about… homework," he answered. By Hermione raised eyebrow, she didn't believe him for a second. She did surprise him by dropping it though.

"Well, if you need help, Ron and I are here for you," she said, a comforting hand squeezing at Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks," Harry said and meant it more than she could possibly realize.

They both looked up when the portrait moved again, and laughter echoed in from the hallways. A small group of students came rushing in, and in the middle, was Ron with a big smile on his face. He turned to see Harry and Hermione sat in the corner, but instead of greeting them immediately, his smile slowly fell as his eyes drifted to Harry's shoulder where Hermione's hand still lingered. Harry felt the hand hastily pull away but Ron's face was already sodden.

Harry glanced at Hermione who was busy staring at the pile of books in her lap, her eyes darting up at Ron, then back. Harry shook his head at his friends, knowing this was going to get worse. He stood up, determined to tell Ron that him and Hermione were just friends, that there was nothing to worry about, but the moment he moved, Ron spun on his heel and left.

"You need to talk to him," Harry stood still, his gaze on the open portrait tunnel that Ron had disappeared to.

"You're one to talk," Hermione snipped, gathering her books, and standing. "You've been dodging someone too."

Harry paused, wondering who she was speaking about. The first image that popped into his head was Ginny, smiling with her hair in the sunlight, but she was dating Dean. It's not like he was trying to dodge her in school, they just didn't run in the same social circles as each other.

Harry opened his mouth to asked what Hermione was talking about when a second image came to his mind. A handsome man with dark hair, blue eyes, and Harry had ducked out of seeing once… or twice. When Hermione was sitting next to him.

"I'm not dodging him," Harry wished his voice didn't come out as a loud whine, so he lowered his tone, took a breath, then repeated calmly. "I'm not dodging him."

"Right," Hermione's voice pitched to display how unconvinced she was. "So, you let him slip by you five times these last few days without a word, because you were trying."

"The Minister's been practically glued to his side most times," Harry winced at his own poor argument.

He had forgotten about the library when he hid behind Hermione when Riddle was down the hall. Harry felt his cheeks warm, and Hermione's cocked eyebrow said it all. She reached past Harry, grabbed the quill, and shoved it at his chest.

"If you can't do it face to face, write him a letter," She offered.

"But, he's here."

"Yes, and you can't find the courage to try to get him alone, so write," she started walking away now, but before getting to the steps that led up to the girl's dormitory, she turned. "And use the school's owls, so the Minister doesn't suspect. Everyone knows your owl."

With that bit of advice given, she went up the stairs. Harry hurried over, ignoring the two girls who giggled at him chasing after Hermione. Remembering the girl's stairs turned into a slide if a boy tried to get up there, Harry placed his hand on the wall, leaned in so his voice would echo up.

"Follow your own advice," Harry shouted up.

A few seconds passed, and no reply. His hand formed a fist, and he lightly hit the stone wall. When he returned to his desk, a few of the Gryffindors that returned were pointing at him during their hushed conversations. The two girls, Lavender and Parvati, tittered behind their hands while sneaking glances at him.

Harry knew this was going to make the situation with Ron worse, but Harry couldn't figure out a way to solve it. He flopped down into his chair and dipped his quill into the ink well. If he couldn't solve one problem, at least he could try to tackle another.

Unlike when he tried to send a letter to Sirius the year before in code, this time Harry found he couldn't stop himself from writing. He would fill up a foot-long parchment, then realize he was gushing or not being clear enough with his words, crumble it up, and start again. He often would only get a few words, sometimes just one, before crossing it out. The growing pile of discarded lesson and schedule drafts only grew larger as his letters were added. Harry finally figured out after an hour of trying to write, that he couldn't say what he wanted in the form of a letter. At least, not every doubt, or the ache he was starkly aware of in his chest at missing Riddle. His personal feelings were much too complicated to put to parchment, and Harry wasn't the best at writing in the first place. Instead, he decided to write something Dumbledore told him, and that helped him greatly.

_It is our choices far more than our abilities that determine who we really are. You've made poor choices but you've also made great ones. Don't forget that._

As though anything could sum up his feelings, Harry scribbled ' _I miss you'_ at the bottom along with his initials. Before he could think about it and convince himself this was a stupid idea, he folded the parchment, put it in his pocket, and left for the owlery.

Hedwig was on a perch, and hooted upon seeing him. Harry felt his face split into a grin at the sight of her beautiful white flecked feathers. He scratched the side of her head just the way she liked it, and she gave his fingers a playful nip.

"It's great to see you," Harry said, watching as she puffed in pride. She offered her leg for his letter, and Harry felt a slight sinking feeling. "Oh, not for you. You'd be spotted in a heartbeat."

Her feathers slowly fell back into place, and her large eyes glared at him. He rushed to explain himself, but she let out a loud hoot, before taking off, her tail feathers disappearing out the window.

"Why is everyone always angry at me?" Harry muttered to the owls. None of them replied. Harry sighed, and walked up to a school owl, who didn't look particularly pleased with delivering his message. "Please, deliver this to the Headmaster before dinner."

The owl turned on its perch, putting its back to Harry, before dipping down, and springing off the perch in a bust of feathers. It zoomed around the owlery, hooting, and went out the window opposite the one Hedwig disappeared out of.

Harry clutched at the ring that still hung around his neck, and took a deep breath. With his letter taken care of, Harry went down towards the Great Hall as dinner was going to be served soon. He was glad the owl left immediately, as Riddle getting it in the middle of dinner during post, would probably be terrible.

The Great Hall was already filling with students by the time Harry showed up. He moved past a few students that loitered around awaiting friends to show, and towards the Gryffindor table. He spotted Ginny almost on instinct, with Dean sitting next to her. Across from them was Lavender and Parvati, both who had their dream journals out from Trelawney's class. They were two of the few who continued in NEWT levels with Divination. Further down was Ron who was dazing off, his head laying heavy in a hand. Harry frowned, not seeing Hermione anywhere, but knew it was probably for the best. He hesitated on sitting near Ron, but knew it would only be worse if he didn't sit next to his friend.

"Hey Ron," Harry announced a little more cheerfully than intended as several students eyed him. Ron shook out of his daze, glancing up at Harry and offering a weak smile.

"Hey, mate," Ron said in the same manner he would to Hagrid asking him to feed the flubberworms.

"So, how are you?" Harry pressed on, taking his seat, and feeling extremely foolish. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he tried small talk with anyone, and it was going just as poorly as ever.

"Brilliant," Ron replied in a tone that suggested he thought Harry might be mad.

"Great," Harry said with a nod, rubbing his sweaty palms against his legs. They both shuffled awkwardly, neither looking at each other while doing so.

"Why are you two acting so weird?" asked Seamus from across. Harry hadn't even seen him sit.

"We aren't!" Harry and Ron protested at the same time. Seamus gave them an incredulous look.

"Right," he said, before getting up, and sitting down the table near Dean.

"I don't know what he was talking about," said Ron, shrugging.

"Me either," Harry nodded, though his face felt warm at the lie.

"I mean, we're just acting normal," Ron continued.

"That's right."

"Nothing is strange between us."

"I agree."

"So, we're fine," Ron ended it, nodding along, though neither had made eye contact.

They were saved from having to speak anymore when a group of third years sat down at the table, all of them chattering to one another, along with a familiar Gryffindor. Harry felt the bench dip next to him, as Neville sat down, and put his plant down on the table. Harry watched as the plant swayed in its pot, a few tightly wrapped buds that were most likely flowers let out a tiny mist, and the air smelt strangely of mint.

The side door to the Great Hall opened, and the Aurors poured in as usual. Harry noticed the two Aurors, Proudfoot and Savage, were amongst the group this time. Unlike the occasions he had seen the two around school, they were very brisk, and serious faced like their colleges. The Minister looped in, along with Riddle, both in a deep conversation.

Many of the other students watched as the Aurors took positions around the hall as they had before. Every time the Minister joined in for meals, the hall would become quieter, as though the presence of the dark wizard hunters reminded everyone of the threats the school faced. Even the Gryffindors that usually boasted about staying behind to fight for the school, were more hushed during meals.

Harry leaned back on the bench, attempting to catch Riddle's eye. He hoped the letter had made Riddle feel better, and would open a conversation between them once more. Harry just knew he could clear everything up if they only spoke. Riddle, however, didn't appear to be looking for him. Instead, Riddle and the Minister continued up the steps to the staff table, still conversing, and sat down in their usual spots.

Like the two days prior, Riddle gave a small speech just explaining that soon the Minister and him would complete protections on the school. Harry sat up straight, attempting to maneuver around Neville, but to no avail. Neville had grown over the last few months, so now he was much bigger than Harry, causing Harry to practically lean so far that his back was nearly touching the Hufflepuff student who sat at their table. Riddle's eyes still never found him. Harry practically huffed as he straightened in his seat.

The food appeared on the table as it normally did, and Ron was already making a grab for the chicken legs. Harry waited until Ron was finished before filling his plate. The savory smells of roasted meat, and the sweet tang of the pumpkin juice that filled his goblet was welcomed. Harry had skipped lunch to work more on scheduling and lessons. He hadn't realized how hungry he had become until he took his first bite.

As he reached for the tarts, a distinct hooting was heard. Harry looked up to watch the post come in, as several owls flooded the room. There were more letters this year than any previous. Parents would send letters, and expect responses the same day due to all the danger now. He set down his tart, suddenly losing his appetite for sweets.

"Why is the Headmaster staring at you?" asked Ron, forgetting they were supposed to be awkward around each other.

Harry frowned, and slowly turned his head. Dread built up in his stomach, and he felt an instant queasiness. How could that stupid bird have waited until post to deliver his letter?

Riddle was holding onto the open parchment, half-folded to hide the contents from those around him. His eyes and Harry's met for the first time in days. The sharp pang in Harry's scar was worth it to finally be acknowledged once more.

Riddle's head delicately tipped. A nod. Then, he deliberately folded the letter, and placed it into the hidden pocket at his breast. A single pat. The letter now laid over his heart. His mouth opened, as if to say something, even though they were separated by numerous students. Harry leaned in, waiting, wanting to know.

Their eye contact was broken as the Minister bumped into Riddle, making him turn. He was immediately pulled into a conversation, his eyes locked on the Minister's face, even as Scrimgeour gestured towards Harry. Riddle shook his head.

As though waking from a spell, Harry turned back to his plate, and the loud conversations of the hall filtered back in. Ron's hand came up to the crook of Harry's arm.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Harry, and he wasn't sure it that was true.

Harry and Ron travelled together to the Gryffindor tower after dinner, chatting about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. Harry was convinced he could make a decent keeper out of Ron, if Ron would stop letting the nerves get the better of him. He only hoped that Ron would stop bemoaning his poor skills, and show up to tryouts next week.

The sun had set on the castle by the time Harry parted ways with Ron. He had a few things to attend to, including dropping off his lesson plans with Snape. He grabbed the scroll him and Hermione had worked over, and headed out of the portrait hole.

The hallways were always quiet this time as most of the fifth-year students were busy doing their O.W.L. homework. Harry did not miss having the piles of scrolls to go through, and the essays. Harry had only received two essays for the first week, both only half a foot. He had been able to do them quickly, anticipating more work to come, and was pleasantly surprised to find he had some free time. Though, all that time would be spent between Quidditch and DA lessons now.

Harry was just passing by the marble staircase, on his way to the lower levels where the dungeons lay, and Snape's office, when the stone gargoyle sprung aside. Harry paused, his heart beating faster, as he waited for whoever would come out of the office.

He was tempted to keep walking when the form of Rufus Scrimgeour came marching out. As though knowing Harry was near, Scrimgeour's head swiveled, and his eyes connected with Harry's like a cat finding its wounded prey all alone. The Minister's chest puffed slightly as he walked over with a practiced smile that reflected in nearly all the pictures in the Daily Prophet.

"Mr. Potter, I believe," he asked as though it were any question. "I've been looking forward to speaking with you, did you know that?"

"No," Harry said plainly.

"Well, I have," Scrimgeour continued, now within a foot or two of Harry. Harry glanced around, and didn't see any Aurors emerging from the office. Noticing the gaze, the Minister spoke. "I do not need them everywhere. Hogwarts, as of my arrival, is guarded well enough."

"It was guarded before you came," Harry stated. The Minister's smile dimmed.

"I suppose, if you count only a single attack as guarded," The Minister replied through his teeth, still attempting a smile. "Then we have different ideas on what that word means."

"I supposed we do."

They stood only a few paces apart in a torch lite hallway. The distant murmur of students echoed through the hallways, and the portraits near were gathering in quietly closer to the pair. Harry could see the group of wizards who normally were dining on rather fine food, pretending to chew, and none were reaching for seconds. He wondered when the wizard in the purple hat would realize his soup was spilling onto his robes.

"I realize you've had a strained relationship with the Ministry in the past," Scrimgeour began slowly. "I assure you, I am not my predecessor."

"Brilliant," Harry said unemphatically.

"I'd like you to come to the Ministry," Scrimgeour said, facing Harry finally just as the wizard in the portrait patted his lap to drain it of soup. "Have a look at some of the people we have helping with security. I've heard from a few sources you have your eyes on becoming an Auror yourself. The department would be interested in giving you a tour, if you wanted."

Harry had the strangest urge to laugh, though he didn't find any of this funny.

"What would you get out of this, exactly?" asked Harry, his eyes still firmly on the portrait just over Scrimgeour's shoulder with the wizards now laughing at their friend with soup staining his robes. "I can't imagine the Ministry just gives out tours to students."

"Well," the Minister began. "It would certainly give some people an easier mind, having you, who they believe to be the chosen one, around. It's all for security, and people's peace of mind, which is very important to the ministry."

"What does the headmaster think of your idea?" asked Harry suddenly. He didn't even have to turn his eyes completely to the Minister to see the sour look that crossed his haggard face.

"He's very short sighted, that one," Scrimgeour scoffed, and then as though remembering he was talking to the headmaster's legal ward, stuttered, "Though, he has the best of intentions, I'm sure."

"He doesn't like it," it wasn't a question.

"No."

They paused.

"You haven't reinstated Dumbledore's old titles or awards," Harry said.

"They're under investigation to be reinstated," the Minister argued, though the strain in his voice was clear. "We've had a lot of other things to do besides award titles back to a man who will not miss them."

Harry felt fury curl in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sure putting innocent people in Azkaban is more important to you," Harry stated plainly, squaring his shoulders, and before Scrimgeour could retort, "My sight isn't so short, Minister. I remember everything the Ministry has done over the years, and continues to do. Maybe one day I'll work with it, but not now, and certainly not with you. Not after all this."

"You're doing this because of Dumbledore's titles?" the Minister sneered, his shoulders squaring.

"Yes," answered Harry as though challenging the Minister to refute him. "After everything Dumbledore did to protect the world, and warn every one of the danger, you still refuse to acknowledge him," –Harry stood tall, and leaned in with his eyes narrowed— "and don't ever speak ill of my guardian ever again."

The Minister's face went through various expressions of irritation, disgust, and downright fury, before he settled in a deep distain. His lips curled down, with a slight wrinkle at his nostrils, and his eyes dark under the bushy brows. He leaned slightly back as though smelling something distasteful.

"I see," he began, "Dumbledore's man through and through, even in death."

"That's right," Harry said with pride. He gripped the scroll in his hand, lifted his chin, and felt a swell of righteousness. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go turn in my lesson planning for Dumbledore's Army."

Turning on his heel, Harry marched down the marble steps, feeling lighter than air. He had to fight with himself to not look back, to see the incredulous expression that surely must be on the Minister's face.

The silence in the hall was broken when the portraits burst into thunderous applause, laughing, and following Harry's journey. Harry kept his head tilted up, his chest fit to burst with joy, and took the last two steps in a great leap, just to release the energy built up from the encounter.

"Nicely worded, Potter!" shouted a wizard with a great white bread, and thick spectacles.

"He's from my house, I'll have you know!" a witch from across the way announced cheerfully. "I always said Gryffindors were the best for dramatic speeches!"

Grumbling came from portraits of witches and wizards of other houses, but the cheering continued down the halls, and all the way leading to the dungeons. The office door was closed, but the flickering light shined from the bottom, dancing across the stone floor. Harry walked around in a circle, taking deep breaths to calm himself, and to wipe the stupid grin that kept blooming whenever he thought of telling off the Minister. It didn't help that he could hear the portraits up the stairs telling others what had occurred, or that they were relaying the Minister stomping off afterwards. He paused with his back turned to the office, listening to snippets of the conversations.

"Lurking outside my office, Potter?" questioned Snape at his door. Harry turned. "Wipe that absurd grin off your face."

"Sorry Professor," Harry answered, but he could hardly stop the joy even in Snape's presence. He held out the scroll, which Snape raised an eyebrow at it. "The lessons for the first DA, sir. You wanted them in advance."

Snape looked down his nose at the offered parchment, then at Harry's still grinning face, and back to the parchment with profound distrust.

"You do realize if this is a prank, I'll have you in detention from now until you are expelled, or graduate, whichever is first," Snape's eyes narrowed as he took the offered scroll, and began poking it with his wand. A few spells scattered across the surface, Harry recognizing some as the spells Hermione tried on the Prince's potion book.

"I don't doubt it for a moment," Harry said, his grin finally dimming as the scrutiny continued. "How long until you approve of the lesson?"

"Assuming that I approve," Snape said, putting away his wand, and using his boney fingers to rolls up the parchment once more, until Harry was worried he might use it to hit him. "I'll review this in the morning, and, I assure you, I will have revisions ready by the afternoon."

"Brilliant," Harry responded. Snape's eyes narrowed again, but Harry was just reminded of the same look on the Minister's face, and bit his cheeks to suppress another grin.

Snape turned towards his office door, stepped inside, and looked over his shoulder at Harry who stood in the middle of the hall.

"Get out of here, Potter."

"Yes sir," Harry quipped, and left, taking two stairs at a time back up towards the Gryffindor tower.

The common room was quiet as only a few students lingered to finish homework assignments, and lessons. The fireplace was burning on a few embers, and the pile of pillows in front were unoccupied, but still retained the indents from their previous owner. Lee Jordon was the only student to look up when Harry arrived in the room, a big grin on his face as he spotted Harry.

"Hey, Harry," Lee called out, and the remaining students all glanced up, many of them with smiles. "Word through the portraits is you told off the Minister."

"Does everyone know already?" asked Harry, but he was wearing a matching grin. "It wasn't as grand as it sounds."

"Maybe not," Lee nodded with a smirk. "But, we're happy someone told him off. Him and his Aurors need to leave."

"I hope Savage stays behind," said Demelza Robins as she flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder. "He's nice, that one. Escorts us to Herbology and back every week."

"Don't forget Proudfoot," said Harry, walking up to join them. "He's not bad either."

"Fine," Lee threw up his hands. "Those two can stay. But, the ones with the serious faces, marching around the grounds? They make people nervous. Not to mention, we can't even go outside to the pitch without one of them mucking it up."

Demelza perked up at the reminder of Quidditch, but luckily for Harry, a tapping at the window distracted them. Everyone turned to see a familiar white owl pecking at the glass, her wings flapping quickly to keep her position. Harry ran over to open the hatch, worried she might be hurt like last year, when let her in.

Hedwig hopped onto the sill, and extended her leg.

"Letter?" whispered Harry, taking the small parchment from her with a frown. He absently stroked her feathers, happy that she had returned. She even nipped his fingers playfully, showing she had forgiven him. "Thanks, Hedwig."

The owl hooted at him, before taking off into the dark sky.

"You know," Demelza said slowly. "You're not supposed to get letters after hours."

"Harry got a letter?" asked Lee with a fake, surprised voice. He stood up, giving an exaggerated yawn. "We must all be too tired to see straight."

"What are—Oh!" Demelza stood up when Lee's foot connected with her ankle. She frowned at Lee, then to Harry, and back to Lee. In a moment that reminded Harry of a lightbulb popping on, she sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh! Yes! Very tired."

"Are you chaps all tired, too?" Lee asked the other Gryffindors that were staring. Slowly, one of them gave a yawn that was also clearly fake, followed by another, then another. Every Gryffindor started packing their things, proclaiming they were heading to bed.

Harry watched as everyone except Lee and Demelza cleared the room, the cool breeze from the still opened window coming in, tickling at his neck.

"Thanks," Harry said, not knowing what else he could say.

"We have to stick together in these times," Lee said, shrugging. "We all think you're going to defeat You-Know-Who, and if forgetting you got a letter a little past time helps you, it's quite literally, the least we could do."

Harry pursed his lips, wanting to argue that he wasn't destined to do anything, or stop Voldemort, but the prophecy floated into his mind. 'The one to defeat the Dark Lord', that's what it said. Harry's hand tightened on the parchment still in his grasp, giving Lee a nod.

"Night," Demelza said, offering a smile, before trotting off to the girl's dormitory.

Lee left as well, heading up to the boy's dormitory, leaving Harry alone in the common room. Harry stood still, listening to the echoes of their footsteps, until the room fell silent. He closed the window, and turned the latch once more, before going to one of the many cushioned seats near the fireplace, where the light was still good enough to read.

The outside of the parchment was blank, and wasn't sealed. Harry gently unfolded it, the paper barely bigger than the palm of his hand. Written in small, neat cursive writing was a simple message, but they made Harry take in a shuttered breath.

_I miss you, too._

_-T.M.R. Jr._


	13. The Two Words

 

 

 

Harry had wondered where exactly all his free time had gone as he struggled through a transfiguration class. As though making up for the first two weeks of school, all their classes became demanding, and the free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but were spent in a desperate attempt to keep up with their classwork. Even Hermione had to request McGonagall to repeat an instruction or two. The teachers were now expecting all their students to cast nonverbal spells, and Harry, like Ron, was falling behind. Much to everyone's surprise, and Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

Harry left class more frustrated than when he walked in. The only thing holding him together was Snape's approval of his lesson plans after several adjustments. Harry was sure the Defense teacher was going to keep stringing him along with making ridiculous corrections, but was shocked at the minor requests. Harry wasn't particularly pleased at the addition of Harry and Snape being the ones demonstrating the spells, though it was hard to argue against since they were Co-Captains of the club.

Another result of their increased workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals, and would often only be seen walking his students to and from class. They haven't even been able to see him passing in the halls lately, as Hagrid seemed to be in his hut whenever not teaching a lesson.

Harry made sure to get up early every morning just to make sure smoke rose from Hagrid's hut in the morning as he made his morning tea. That, at least, let Harry breathe easier through the day knowing Hagrid was still at Hogwarts.

"He can't have expected us to keep on with Care of Magical Creatures," Ron said as they walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast one morning.

"I don't like not talking to Hagrid," worried Hermione, chewing lightly on her thumbnail. "We should visit him."

"I agree," said Harry.

"Yeah," Ron snorted, grabbing his shoulder strap for his bag the threatened to fall from the weight of his books. "You know, when we find any of the free time we were supposed to have."

"We can go Saturday," offered Hermione.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Quidditch tryouts, and half the Gryffindor house wants to try out, so we'll be there for a good while, followed by homework afterwards."

"Well, then Sunday," Hermione snipped.

"That should work for me," Harry said, grabbing his messy schedule from his bag to double check. The three of them moved out of the hallway and into an alcove so they didn't block any traffic. Harry squinted at his on writing. "Er—I just have lesson planning that day, so I can go but only for an hour or so."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Hermione looked to Ron, who was staring off down the stairs. "And what about you?"

"Oh, umm, same, I guess," Ron muttered.

"Good," Harry shoved his schedule back into his bag, and turned the corner to head to continue down the stairs. Hermione quickly followed nearly bumping into Harry, and before Harry could ask what was wrong, he spotted Lavender Brown's curly hair disappearing into the Great Hall. He turned, and saw Ron staring down, as though in a daze.

It took a lot in Harry not to bring out his wand and curse Ron for being such an idiot.

The mornings were still filled with frantic runs down to the Great Hall for breakfast with school bags filled with books, and bits of parchment. Harry could tell a sixth year now by the ink on their noses, from trying to squeeze in a few more sentences on their essays before first class. Groans, and complaints rung out through the hall was the post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Several students were quickly casting a drying spell on their essays, glaring at the numerous owls.

The biggest change from the past week, and Harry's opinion the best, was the Minister left a day after his conversation with Harry. Riddle had made an announcement proclaiming the Minister thought the school was as safe as it could be, and was leaving that afternoon. True to his word, Scrimgeour did not appear at the next morning meal, and was seen heading to Hogsmeade in the evening, along with several of his Aurors. Proudfoot and Savage, both of whom Harry had become fond of, stayed behind.

Proudfoot would often roam the halls during his rounds and would greet Harry every time they passed. But, Harry didn't really take to him until Harry saw Proudfoot break up a fight by loudly correcting both students on their forms. Proudfoot quickly took over the gathered crowd, and turned it into a lesson on proper dueling technique, and the importance of honor. He made the two students shake hands, and promise if they had problems with the other, they would allow Proudfoot or a teacher to referee in their next duel.

When Proudfoot was finished, he turned to leave, and spotted Harry watching. He gave a cheeky wink, and marched down the hall.

Another benefit to the Minister being gone was the freedom Harry and Riddle now shared. They were both swamped with work, but they now passed letters back and forth, hiding their communication through the morning post. Harry would send his letters in the afternoon by a school owl, and Riddle would send a reply by Hedwig. It worked out well since no one looked strangely at either getting letters from their respected owls. His last letter was asking how the Minister took being told off, and he was eagerly awaiting a reply.

Harry's face split into a grin as Hedwig came soaring in from the window, landing gracefully in front of him. He gave her a piece of his bacon, and took the small scroll from her foot, quickly unraveling it.

_Dear Harry,_

_In response to your last note, I feel the word 'fractious' comes to mind, though a cat suddenly tossed into cold water, is a close second. I was almost sad to see him leave, as the portraits accompanied us on our morning walks with a retelling your previous conversation with the him, in much exaggerated language I'm assured, was a joy I take with me every day._

_I heard you defended my honor as well. I do not deserve such consideration, though I am glad to have it._

_Have classes been going well? I remember my sixth year, and do not wish it upon anyone. Remember, nonverbal spells work just the same as verbal._ _Intention is the key_ _._

_Best Wishes_

_T.M.R. Jr._

Harry was biting his knuckle to keep his laughter silent, as he read about the Minister. The image of Scrimgeour sopping wet, with his face screwed up, nearly did Harry in. He sobered as he continued, and stroked Hedwig's feathers in thanks. The letters weren't addressing their problems, or Harry's concerns about Riddle going too far, but it did help. Harry just wished his scar would stop hurting, as continued in a dull throb of pain every day. He could ignore it for the most, glad the spikes were gone, and so were the visions of Voldemort.

Harry carefully folded up the parchment, and stored it away in his bag. The reply would have to wait until evening, but Harry had a good idea of what he was going to write already. Asking for a time turner so he could find a moment to rest.

Riddle apologized, and declined to buy him a time turner, though even Harry knew that wasn't actually going to happen.

Much to Harry, and everyone's surprise, Draco Malfoy was still unconscious in the hospital ward. Harry had asked around, and it Draco seemed to be in perfect health, but would not wake up. Madam Pomphrey made several complaints that he should be moved to St. Mungos for further testing, but he remained in Hogwarts.

Harry didn't know why, but some nights he snuck out of the Gryffindor tower, and sat next to Draco in the Hospital Wing. He was never close to Draco in any way, and often, wanted to punch the stupid smirk off his face, but Harry never truly hated him.

His scar would throb worse during those visits, but Harry continued, the ache in his chest easing slightly when he saw Draco still living.

Quidditch tryouts were this Saturday, and Harry was both relieved they were finally scheduled, and dreading having to finish all his work before tryouts. Ron also seemed to be of a similar mind, as he sat nearly silent next to Harry through their studies, writing his essays furiously. Numerous Gryffindor students approached Harry with stories of their skills on a broom. Harry was polite to the first few, but after the seventh student, started snapping at them to show him Saturday, and he would make it twice as hard for those that bragged. They did stop coming to him after that.

Thursday was picked to be the D.A.'s first lesson, even though Lavender and Parvati complained because it interfered with their Divination Club meeting. Harry told them which did they think was more important, and left it up to them to decide. The two girls stomped off, utterly upset at Harry's flippant response, but Harry could see Hermione smirking behind her book.

The day of the first lesson was the worst for Harry's nerves. Hermione couldn't help, as she had Ancient Runes that afternoon which ended right before the meeting. Ron was out at the Quidditch pitch trying to get in as much practice as he could before tryouts. Harry was tempted to join him just to get his mind off having to teach with Snape, but Slughorn was out with the Slytherins. Harry had been dodging the potion's master all week.

So, Harry spent part of his morning just pacing around the boy's dormitory. Dean's enchanted Quidditch posters were barely distracting, and Seamus's normal football posters even less so, though they were a welcoming sight. The boys had put them back up on the walls as soon as they returned from the Great Hall. Neville's plant had left a few petals on the nightstand, and were turning an interesting purple color starting from the edge, and curling in towards the stalk. Harry wondered if the leaf was poisonous or—

"Hey Harry," Dean said suddenly from the doorway. Harry jumped slightly, causing Dean to smile. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

"I wasn't scared," Harry said, trying to sound casual, as his heart beat strongly against his ribs. "Just didn't hear you, is all."

"Well," Dean started, stepping forward and pulling out a scroll. "I got something for you."

"What's this?" asked Harry. He moved up, adjusting his glasses, and watched as Dean unrolled it. It was so long that Harry had to grab one end, and take a few steps back.

It was a banner nearly the length of the room, with 'Dumbledore's Army' written elegantly across it. The banner was enchanted, and every few seconds the letters would change from one house color, to the next. The only letter that didn't change were the D and the A at the beginning of each word. They stayed a solid gold color, glimmering in the light, and almost reflecting the dancing flames from the torches. Harry found himself coming forward and his fingers touching the outline. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he could feel the ridges of the letters, and they almost appeared to wink at him.

"So," Dean asked quietly, his eyes focused on Harry. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect," said Harry, and it was. "When did you find time to do this?"

"Well," Dean shrugged, his head turned away, and Harry could almost feel his embarrassment. "I didn't do so well in my OWLs, so, I have more free time."

"You're going to be a brilliant artist one day though," Harry said, remembering all the posters and banners Dean had made through the years at Hogwarts. He was always impressed with them.

Dean's head came up. "You think so?"

"Yeah."

Dean was quiet for a moment. Then, "Thanks, Harry."

Harry and Dean walked to the Great Hall together, talking animatedly about how to spell the banner to hang in the room, and if it was too big, or small, how best to change its size without ruining the enchantment on the banner. They quickly were ruling out some of the simply spells as they would break the enchantment or make it fade like the _Daily Prophet_ photo the twins enlarged last year. Harry will still never forgive them for seeing his own face that big on the Gryffindor common room, and randomly shouting _'dungbomb'_ , as the spell wore off.

As they were coming down the marble staircase, Harry could hear the murmur of students. They turned the corner and Harry froze.

He could hardly begin to count the sheer amount of people gathered around the doors leading into the Great Hall. They spilled out across the entry way, up the stairs in scattered groups, and down the hallway. Dean was greeted by Seamus, who waved from the far left. Dean grabbed the rolled-up banner, and shrugged.

"I'll find a way to hang it," Dean said. He eyed the crowd, then back to Harry. "Well, good luck."

Luckily for Harry, just as Dean abandoned him, Ernie approached with a big grin.

"Seems a bit bigger than last year, don't it?" Ernie said, his chest puffed out as he observed the large gathering of students, many of whom had turned to see Harry. "Everyone wants in now."

"Yeah," Harry began, swallowing thickly.

"We're original members though," Ernie continued, utterly unaware of how nervous he was making Harry. "We got a leg up on everyone coming in now, I figure. Most of us can probably help you teach those first spells, so no worries, yeah?'

"Why aren't you inside?" asked Harry, wanting to change subjects.

"Room's being rearranged for the club, since so many showed up," Ernie answered, pointing his thumb at the door. "Professor Snape's got the sixth and seventh years making the room up now."

Harry moved forward, making his way through the crowd. Quite a few people patted his back along the way, murmurs with his name went through, and everyone seemed to be watching him as he pushed open the double doors.

As though on command, everyone stepped forward with him, and he felt the room itself heat with some many. He walked in, seeing Roger Davis spells the house tables against the walls, and Lee Jordan, along with a few others, transfiguring cups, and plates into dueling dummies. The candles that usually hung suspended in the air, were higher, and brighter than before, lighting up the Great Hall as though under spot lights.

He circled the hall, and paused. Harry was staring out at almost every single student in Hogwarts, and felt his heart drop into his stomach, was their eyes focused on him. This was far too many students to deal with. Sweat began to bead at his hairline, and down his neck, though his skin felt cold. Harry had a wild idea to leave, and walk back in, because this could not be the actual number of students who wanted to join.

"Potter."

Harry's eyes snapped up to where the staff table normally sat during meals. In its place was just the raised platform, the house banners gently swaying in the ever-present breeze the castle seemed to always have, and Severus Snape. In dark robes that were devoid of his usual cape, and a stern expression, Snape cut quite a figure.

"Join me on the platform so the lesson can begin," Snape said, unfolding his arms, and placing his arm out. A gesture for Harry to stand at his side.

Harry walked through the hall, cutting a path through the students who parted like the water to a wading ship. Harry could hear his own heart beating against his ear drums, and his own footsteps echoed in the hall. Each step a heartbeat, but took only a breath to get there. Snape dropped his gesture when Harry reached the stairs to the platform, instead, turning to the students who watched the two known adversaries stand side by side.

They stood there, staring out at the hundreds of eyes that gazed back, and Harry wondered exactly what he was supposed to do. Snape had placed his hands behind his back and was like a vulture watching the students below, not at all worried about the many eyes, or the odd silence that had fallen over the hall.

"You have the floor, Potter," Snape said without even turning his head.

"Er—right," muttered Harry. He cleared his throat. "Welcome everyone to the first meeting of the D.A. club."

A few scattered clapped were heard, which only made Harry's ear feel warm.

"For those of you who were part of the club last year, welcome back," –a few shouts, and cheers rose, including Neville in the back on the room, having just slid into the hall— "and for those joining for the first time, umm… welcome."

"Eloquent," Snape sneered quietly. Harry gritted his teeth, pretending not to hear.

"We aim to teach defense in this club. It's more important that we learn to defend ourselves, and those around us, than attack.," Harry paused for a moment, allowing the speech him and Hermione wrote just a few days before to come back to him.

"Any brute with half a mind can attack," Snape said in a practiced tone, as though anticipating Harry's trouble. If he were anyone else, Harry would have felt grateful, instead shame, mixed with old resentment curled unpleasantly in his stomach, as Snape continued. "The art of defense is a skill that must be honed, crafted, and tended to. It is easy to become complacent, and to fall out of practice."

"And that is why," Harry announced, the rest of the speech falling into place. "We will start with the basics, and periodically revisit them as we continue through defensive spells this year. Today, we shall start with the disarming charm."

Snape pulled out his wand.

"This shall only be demonstrated once," Snape said, moving a few paces away from Harry on the raised platform, "So pay attention." He turned on his heel, hair twirling slightly, and pointed his wand at Harry's chest. Those dark eyes connected with Harry's. "Potter, disarm me."

"With pleasure," Harry muttered under his breath. He flicked his wand, and with an ' _Expelliarmus!_ ', Snape's wand sprung out from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Harry could hardly keep the smile off his face, as he turned to face the students. "Spells are about intent. You must visualize the spell working, focus, and cast. Now, pair up, and practice."

Snape was quick to pick up his wand once more, and remained on the raised platform to sneered corrections of wand movements at students while Harry jumped down to assist with pairing everyone. He was happy to see Neville was already paired with Hannah, Hannah's wand already jumping from her hands. Instead of appearing upset, Hannah clapped, making Neville turn red. Harry patted Neville on the back as he passed.

"Very good," Harry complimented, then turned to Hannah. "You were in the D.A. last year, right?"

"Yes," Hannah answered, gracefully picking up her wand, and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she stood. "Ernie invited me, but he's off trying to teach some firsties."

"Why don't you practice the shield charm," Harry suggested, then turned to Neville who was busy looking down at his feet. "And you try to disarm her, without the spell bouncing back at you."

"Got it, Harry," Neville answered.

Harry moved on, hearing Neville curse as his wand went falling, nearly hitting two Ravenclaws practicing nearby. The Ravenclaw girls giggled, one of them handing Neville back his wand.

Harry saw a familiar head with red hair towering above the younger students, and headed over to see how Ron was handling himself. Harry hadn't had a chance to see Ron all day. It became better once he saw Ginny was with Ron as well, but the swelling in his chest was quickly brought back to reality when Dean came up, giving Ginny a peck on the cheek.

Harry had moved to turn away, not wanting to join them, when Ron called out his name. Harry's eye darted frantically around the room looking for any excuse not to join his friends, when he saw a group of students who were not practicing near the corner. Harry shrugged at Ron, then moved towards the group. Ron's eyes followed where he was heading, and nodded, understanding.

"Why aren't you lot paired up?" Harry asked, making many of the students jump.

It was a group of mainly second year students from three of the houses, with the only Slytherin in the middle, who was doing a valiant attempt to look unbothered by being surrounded. Harry instantly recognized Alfie, and smiled at him, brushing past the others.

"I'm glad you made it," Harry said, reaching out a hand. Alfie eyed it for just a second, before putting his own in. Harry shook his hand once more, enjoying the various degree of outrage from the fellow students that gathered around. "Do you have a partner yet, Alfie?"

"Apparently, I have quite a few," Alfie said, nodding towards the group.

"Well, it's only supposed to be one on one if everyone recalls," said Harry, pulling Alfie from the circle. "You'll be my partner for a bit." Harry turned a stern eye to the group. "And the rest of you better pair up quickly, or else I'll send Professor Snape over here."

As though sensing his name was said amongst the crowd, Snape's dark eyes fell on the group. The students let out various sounds of complaint, and fear, before scrambling to pair up. Harry waited until he and Alfie were out of earshot from the group prior to speaking.

"Did any of them curse, or hit you?" Harry asked seriously.

"No," Alfie shrugged. When Harry didn't respond, he added. "They couldn't hit me with a teacher so close, and I doubt they know any spells that could hurt me."

"Well," Harry began awkwardly, "All the better for you to learn the disarming charm before they do."

"I can do it," Alfie narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his chin up. It may have been a good display of arrogance, if Alfie wasn't short enough for Harry to rest his arm on.

"Then show me," Harry said, walking a few paces away, then turning. He raised his wand.

Like most first and second years, Alfie was red in the face, jabbing his wand furiously in an attempt to cast the disarming charm. Harry glanced at Snape, who was busy with a group of Ravenclaws, before quickly showing the movement once more. It took Alfie half a dozen tries more, but eventually Harry's wand clattered to the floor. For all of Alfie's previous bravado, his face was the picture of surprise when he succeeded. His mouth opened, his eyes widen comically, and his face darting from Harry's empty hand, to the wand on the ground.

"Brilliant!" Harry joined, picking up his wand.

"Of course," Alfie responded with, his face split into a grin. "I told you I could."

"That you did," Harry nodded, biting the inside of his cheek so he didn't laugh at the Slytherin. Harry's eyes went to the rest of the students. "I have to go check on the others."

"You just don't want me to show you up," Alfie said, and if it wasn't for the smirk tugging at his lips, Harry might have taken him seriously.

"You got me," Harry said, his head moving to find a partner for Alfie that wouldn't try to curse the Slytherin. He spotted the Creevey brothers just a few pairs down. "Colin!"

Colin looked up, his wand flying from his hands as his brother disarmed him. Colin didn't even appear to notice, his mouth slightly ajar, and his eyes wide. He glanced around, as though to make sure no other person named Colin was around, and that Harry was calling for him.

"Colin, you, and your brother come here," Harry asked, both brothers practically stumbling in their hurry. "Practice one at a time with Alfie."

Colin and Dennis nodded, both smiling.

"Of course, Harry!" Colin almost shouted in his joy, nodding so hard Harry worried about his neck. Dennis, who hadn't said a word, was nodding, too. Alfie eyed the brothers, then up at Harry, who shrugged. The Creevey brothers were a handful.

Harry continued his rounds, checking on various students, and making minor corrections on a few. He was proud to say that every student in the hall had successfully performed the disarming charm by the time the lesson was ending. He had also managed to find a spot to hang the banner, asking two seventh years to enchant it to hover over the raised platform. Harry would have to take it down when the lesson was over, but it made him happy when students would look up and see their house color sparkling across the parchment.

Snape approached Harry when the lesson ended, his face ever stern, and his hands behind his back.

"I expect the next lesson's plan to be on my desk no later than Tuesday," he said before turning to usher the students out of the hall. Harry watched his back, blinking, and paused in his removing of the banner.

Then, a slow grin spread across his face as he realized Snape couldn't say a single nasty thing about his lesson. Harry proudly rolled the banner back up, and tucked it under his arm, hopped off the platform, and marched out of the hall with his head held high.

He wished Quidditch tryouts went that smoothly.

Harry was lucky he thought of splitting the applicants into groups, and having them fly around the pitch. It easily weeded out all the first and second years who could barely fly more than a couple of feet. Much to Harry's dismay though, they all stayed behind to watch the rest of the tryout.

Attempting to get the field clear, Harry did the Chaser tryouts first. It took nearly an hour, several broken teeth, and a ruined Comet Two Sixty but he had three Chaser: Katie Bell who was returning, Demelza Robins, who Harry starting liking after the night with the letter, and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition much to Harry's pleasure.

Ron was up, and there was a large gathering of students in the benches from all the rejected players. Harry could see the sweat on his forehead from here, and hoped Ron could manage to look competent. Much to Harry's surprise, Ron saved all his penalties in a row, and was the only to do so.

Cormac McLaggen was quickly becoming a problem for Harry though, as he was inches from Harry's face, red, and with a concerning vein bulging from his forehead. Harry had informed him the same as anyone else, he was outflown, and out saved, so Harry's decision was final.

Unluckily for Harry, McLaggen was still rather sore from losing his spot on the Quidditch team during the second D.A. meeting.

Harry and Snape demonstrated the shielding charm, and the stunning charm. Both, which Harry thought were rather easy to get correct after a bit of practice, that McLaggen complained at volume, were shown poorly. Harry made his way through the students, heading towards McLaggen with his holly wand gripped tightly in his hand, only to have Snape make it to him first.

"McLaggen, is it," Snape's voice cut through the room like a knife. Harry paused to watch, wondering if Snape was going to use this as an excuse to dock points from Gryffindor. McLaggen turned, his face paled, and mouth slightly open. When he failed to answer Snape immediately, Snape's lip curled down in displeasure.

"Slow, as well as loud," Snape whispered, though his voice carried through the hall. Harry heard a snigger from behind, turning to see Alfie covering his mouth. "Do you require additional demonstrations?" –Snape gestured towards two Ravenclaw first years— "Perhaps they could show you, as they have accomplished both in this lesson, where you have not."

McLaggen muttered an apology, before stomping off, and out of the hall. Snape turned around, and went back to assisting another pair of students as though nothing out of the ordinary occurred. He did, however, look up at Harry for just a moment, and even though Snape's face had not changed, Harry could swear the man was smiling.

Harry wasn't sure if that was good, or bad.

However, him and Ron laughed all the way up to the Gryffindor tower after that lesson, and Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics.

When October came around, Quidditch practice was in full swing, homework was piling, D.A. was on its fourth lessons, and fall winds blew in from the lake, making evening cool enough to warrant a scarf. Harry felt trapped inside the school most days, busy scheduling lessons, studying for tests, and fitting in Quidditch. In wild moments, he almost wished someone else was named Captain, just do he would have free time.

Hermione assisted when she could, writing lessons with her in the evening had become a routine. Snape had less corrections, but he always had a few, even if Harry thought they were just there to show Harry wasn't perfect. Ron would help with Quidditch practice, running trials, and laps if Harry was late coming down to the pitch. Katie Bell oversaw Chaser workouts though, and she ran them harder than Harry. He still had to keep on top of Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, his two beaters. Harry had caught them napping when they were supposed to be doing laps, but they straightened after Harry threatened to hex them if he caught them again.

The only good part about being so busy through September was being able to dodge Slughorn. It seemed every time Harry was traveling the halls by himself, Slughorn would pop out, and invite him to another party. It was becoming increasingly difficult to say no, as Slughorn was more persistent the better Harry performed in potions. If doing so well in the class didn't ease some of the burden on Harry, he would be tempted to fail just to get Slughorn to back down. As it was, the copy of Advanced Potion Making with the notes from the Half-Blood Prince was one of the few things making Harry's life easier.

Riddle and Harry still shared letters, but pretended not to have any contact outside of it. Harry hoped Christmas holiday would give them both time to catch back up in person. Though, every letter had a piece of advice that Harry found useful. The last was, to delegate his tasks, which the last week had shown, worked well.

Harry even had enough time one Saturday to visit Hagrid again, which had cheered them both up significantly. Harry learned the reason Hagrid was being so distant was because Aragog, the giant spider Hagrid raised, was ill. Harry patted the half-giant's shoulder in comfort, though he honestly couldn't say he was sorry the spider was dying, since it did try to eat him and Ron during their second year. Harry left Hagrid's hut with a mug full of hot chocolate, and a stern Auror waiting for him.

"Where is your escort?" asked Savage, his arms crossed, and a stern expression.

"Er-," Harry started, his mind racing. He had completely forgotten about the new security, as Hagrid did.

"That's what I thought," Savage said, waving Harry along. They walked in silence for a few moments. "I heard you have a defense club."

"Oh, yeah," Harry answer, feeling a tad embarrassed about his mishap.

"What are you teaching?" Savage asked, his eyes forward, but Harry could see him peeking at him every few steps.

"Disarming, stunning, shielding," Harry rattled off. "The basics so far."

"I hope you're not ignoring the more advanced shielding," Savage lectured. " _Protego_ is a fine spell, but there are many spells that will break it, or get past. If you want a really beefy shield, you'll go with _Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri_ , and _Repello Inimicum_."

" _Protego Maxima_?"

"Yes," Savage nodded. "They are more advanced versions of the shielding charm, and work well against dark spells. You'll do well to learn them."

"Thanks," Harry said, and wished he had something to write this down with. Instead, he repeated the spells in his head, and ran for the library to look them up. He added them to the next lesson, with a mark to teach fifth years and above. Then, spent two days practicing them, until the blue mist of the shield formed around him on the first try. It wasn't prefect, but it worked.

The morning of Halloween started off well for Harry. For this first time since early September, his scar wasn't hurting. Harry didn't even notice the change until he was done with breakfast, since it had become such a constant. He hoped that was a good sign.

Harry and Snape both agreed to have D.A. lessons early due to Halloween feast happening in the evening. It was in this lesson Harry would have to demonstrate the new shielding charms, and hope they worked correctly, as Snape's stunning spell was strong enough that Harry's _Protego_ didn't always block it.

Harry waited on the platform as the students gathered into the Great Hall for the D.A. lesson. The banner Dean made was flying above Harry's head, casting a sparkle of colors out across the crowd when it changed. Harry could always work out the new students by them staring and pointing at the banner, which is one of the many reasons Harry insisted on it always being up before the lessons began much to Snape's displeasure.

Two new Ravenclaws, and a new Hufflepuff student, none of which Harry knew. They didn't surprise Harry, as most of Gryffindor had already joined, along with the two other houses. What was surprising was the group of Slytherin first and second years, all grouped with Alfie.

Almost against his will, Harry was reminded of another Slytherin boy marching into the Great Hall with admires surrounding him. Alfie led the group with his head tilted up, and a small smirk on his face. He marched them right next to a group of Gryffindors without any worries, and Harry hoped that was enough to prevent any problems, though he could see a few Gryffindors murmuring behind their hands.

Harry made a mental note to ask Ron and Hermione to keep the Slytherins from trouble. Ron had taken a strange liking to Alfie, as Alfie would pull pranks on Filch when prompted to. Hermione had a theory that Ron was missing his older brothers, and having someone like them, who was smaller and took his orders, was too good of an opportunity for Ron to pass up. Harry just thought Ron wanted to prank Filch and have someone else to blame for it.

As per usual, Snape was on the platform with Harry by the time all the students filed in. Harry waited until the conversations scattered around the room dulled, then began his speech on the lesson.

"Today, we're going to be learning an advanced shielding charm suggested by the Auror Savage," Harry began, always amazed at everyone paying close attention to him. "Unlike _Protego_ , this shield is often time visible, and stronger against attacks."

"It is also not something most wizards expect, or anticipate in their victims to be capable of," Snape interjected as they planned. "For that reason alone, learning this spell could be a matter of life or death."

Several of the younger years grasped each other in fear, while many of the others looked intrigued.

Harry took a few calming breaths, as he watched Snape take a few steps away to start the demonstration. Harry turned, and they both bowed. When Snape pulled back his wand, preparing to cast a stunning spell, Harry had a sudden image flash through his mind from his second year. Lockhart flying across the tables like a rag doll from Snape's spell, all the students laughing, and Snape standing victorious over him. Only, this time it was Harry, and Ginny was among the students. Her and Dean, arm in arm, laughing at an embarrassed Harry.

A split second before Snape's wand came down, Harry's mind cleared.

" _Protego Maxima_!" Harry cried.

The red spell whipped through the air, and made a crackling sound as it crashed into the blue mist pouring from Harry's wand.

Harry felt his heart hammer in his chest, and he was breathing like he ran all the way through the castle, but he did it. His shield charm worked, and Snape was sneering at him, as though disappointed. Harry turned to the students, who were applauding at the demonstration politely, completely unaware that Harry almost failed to cast the charm.

Harry smiled, and opened his mouth to ask everyone to break up into pairs, when the two oak doors leading into the all burst open.

Everyone's head turned, and Harry felt his hammering heart fall into his stomach. The Auror was panting, a frantic, almost rabid look across his face, and his eyes wide like saucers. Before Proudfoot had said a single word, Harry knew. His mind was already racing when two words were whispered, but that was all anyone needed to confirm their worst fear.

" _He's here_."


	14. The One He Should Have Feared

There was exactly two seconds of silence in the Great Hall before a cry broke the peace. Harry turned to see who had been the first, but the crowd was shifting quickly as terror set in. Students scattered towards the exit as though they could hide or outrun the threat lurking outside the castle walls, others stayed frozen in place, clutching their robes, sobbing, or screaming. Harry watched as many students stumbled over each other in their haste to get out of the hall, a few were no doubt caught underfoot in the mad rush. Harry stepped forward just as a deafening crack rang out followed by great blue sparks shooting from the end of a black wand.

Harry jumped at the sound, and turned to see Snape, looking annoyed at best, his wand raised, and his lips curved down. The students, like Harry, looked at the Defense teacher.

"There will be order," he announced, his voice ringing through the hall. Snape eyes went across the room in much the same manner he would in his class. "I expect any of those currently on the ground will stand up immediately."

A few shuffles were heard, and several students were helped to their feet. Harry watched as Ginny pulled a first year up, and Neville was assisting a Hufflepuff girl. It only took seconds but Harry was clenching his wand. When the hall remained silent after the students were all on their feet, Snape turned his focus to the Auror still panting at the door.

"Mr. Proudfoot," -the Auror's eyes locked on Snape- "Inform the Minister, I'm sure he'll want to know the Dark Lord is visiting the school."

Proudfoot lingered by the door, watching the frightened students.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, Mr. Proudfoot, but the Dark Lord doesn't linger," Snape sardonically, his gaze narrowed. "I suggest neither should you."

Proudfoot's brows lowered, and looked as though he wanted to argue. Harry was surprised when the Auror gave a sharp nod, then left the hall.

"Prefects," Snape addressed once more, several students including Hermione and Ron snapped to attention. "Lead first and second years to their dormitories. Third years and above, follow me."

With no question, as to his orders being obeyed, Snape spun on his heel to march from the hall.

Harry looked at his friends, who were already gathering first and second year students together. Hermione was quick, and ordering them in a line, while Ron took up the front, his wand out and already leading a group out the doors. As though sensing someone was watching them, they both looked up. Hermione, thin lipped but utterly determined, mouthed ' _GO_ ' while Ron offered a salute, before he disappeared out the doors.

His mind made up, Harry jumped from the platform, and quickly dashed through the crowding students to follow Snape. No one was rushing to meet up with a potential army, so Harry had little trouble shoving past people to walk nearly shoulder to shoulder with Snape, who barely spared a glance in Harry's direction.

There was seldom a face that wasn't pale, and on the verge of crying. A few of the Ravenclaw girls were in tears, Cho amongst them, but Harry felt numb to it. He was past the time in his life where impressing Cho no longer mattered, and found he was fine with that. The world had changed the night Dumbledore died, and even more when Harry learned about the prophecy. This new world had no room for boasting, or attempting to impress girls. It was too filled with overwhelming weight, that Harry could not comfort anyone, for he was feeling every bit as terrified.

He marched with the rest of the students being led by Snape towards the oak doors. He had a sinking sensation in his gut, a wild thought running through his mind that caused him to stumble into the student next to him.

 _What if Snape was leading them to their deaths_?

Harry's eyes snapped to the Defense teacher's face, which was the picture of calm. Snape appeared to be going through the halls as though this was merely another day, no harsh creases, no faltered step. If he was on Voldemort's side this whole time, wouldn't Harry and Riddle know? Wouldn't Dumbledore?

"Keep up, Potter," Snape said without even a glance. Harry caught himself, and continued forward.

" _Ah,_ there you are," said a silky voice that made Harry's heart swell.

Tom Riddle stood near the doors in dark blue robes tightly fitted against his body, missing all the draping fabric that usually adorned the older man, and Riddle looked as though he were greeting a friend, soft smile on his face. Riddle waved his hand at the doors, which groaned before opening to the grounds.

"I've informed Minerva of the events. She was the rest shall join us shortly," Riddle continued undaunted, his hands now folded behind his back. He walked outside, with Snape making two large strides to catch him. They strolled together into the courtyard with a hundred or so frightened students following.

"He will make it past the second defense soon," Snape said, his head tilted up to look at the sky.

Harry followed his gaze, but couldn't see anything. The blue was tinted vibrant purples, pinks, and oranges as the sun was just an hour from setting. A few stars winked in and out of sight, still outshined by the remaining sun. The clouds were thick folds of white and grey, filled with water, and brought in the sharp cool wind that hinted at the beginnings of winter, but try as he might, Harry could not see a single thing out of place. He suspected there was an invisible shield much like the one his Aunt and Uncle had around their neighborhood. He hoped it would hold, and Voldemort would leave having grown tired of trying to get past it.

"It will take him a few minutes to work it out at least," Riddle mused, a small smirk on his face.

Everyone looked up as a crack echoed through the air as the sky lit up with sparks of vicious green, with specks of deep purple scattering like veins which pulsed a few times, before another crack echoed. Then, it cleared away, the normal vibrant colors appearing as though nothing occurred but a distant rumbling sound like thunder lingered.

"A few minutes, you say," Snape quipped, though Harry noticed the tightness grew around his eyes.

Riddle paused in his steps just as the last student crossed the threshold of the school. He gazed at the sky for a moment, then turned to the students.

"I know many of you are wondering if you must fight today," Riddle began, his voice easily carrying despite the wind kicking up. "I assure you, I will do my best to make sure none of you have to lift your wands against Voldemort or his Death Eaters."

A few gasps were heard, but if it was for hearing Voldemort's name, or Riddle's declaration, Harry couldn't be sure. He gripped his wand tightly, wondering how Riddle could possibly think he was enough to hold back all the Death Eaters, and his counterpart without any assistance. As though feeling his worries, the scar on Harry's forehead prickled for the first time that day, and a swooping in his gut. Harry barely had time to wonder why it chose now of all times to react, when a thunderous boom echoed out across the grassy fields.

Riddle leaned towards Snape, "I believe it's time for me to greet our guest."

"He does hate waiting," Snape answered, and his hand slipped into his robes. Harry saw the flash of a bone white wand, before Riddle tucked it into his sleeve. Snape's hand grasped Riddle's wrist, his thumb resting where the wand lay hidden, and Snape's eyes narrowed. With a hiss that Harry could barely make out even this close, "Hold your promise."

"I always do," Riddle said, but Snape did not look happy at that reply. They held each other a beat longer, then Snape let go. Riddle nodded and then turned towards the students, arms spread out, and smile across his face. "If all of you would be so kind as to point your wands towards the sky, and cast _Protego Maxima_."

No one moved.

"You heard the Headmaster," Snapped the defense teacher.

Harry was among the first to cast, throwing all his might into the spell. A string of blue light came from his wand, raising into the sky, and creating a bubble. Another string joined his, and Harry could see Ginny, pale and beautiful, casting her own charm. Several more sprung up around Harry, all merging together in the sky until light surrounded the castle. Harry waited for Riddle or Snape to join in, but they did not. Instead, Snape and Riddle watched the shield formed around the school. Riddle, at least, was smiling at the progress.

"Well done everyone," he said as the shield completed, and everyone lowered their wands slowly but the light remained. "If any of you do not want to continue from here, Professor Snape will accompany any students wishing to remain safe inside the castle. The intruders will not get inside the castle, I promise, regardless as to who comes with, or stays behind."

A couple of third years, and two fourth years rushed back inside the castle. Snape walked calmly back into the castle, pausing slightly near the door way, then continued in. Harry watched his robes disappear inside, and a small form creep out from behind taller students.

The mousy brown hair, and familiar green robes made Harry frown. He should have suspected the young Slytherin would sneak out with them, but Harry didn't have to time to tell him off, and honestly, Harry thought everyone who wanted to join the fight should be allowed. He faced Voldemort twice by Alfie's age.

"All of you are very brave," Riddle said, his eyes roaming over the crowd, but landing just over Harry's shoulder. "Follow me, but do not interfere. Do not step outside the barrier, and do not, under any circumstance, rush to my side if I fall." -his eyes connected with Harry's, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath- "Is that clear?"

Harry nodded, though he doubted he could follow those orders. Riddle continued to pin him with a stare, a twinge in Harry's scar but he refused to flinch from it. Then seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Riddle turned to lead the crowd of students down the Hogwarts's grounds and towards the awaiting Dark Lord.

Harry's eyes remained forward, his wand tight in his fist, and the grass crunching beneath his feet. The number of students following them made it sound like an army marching, with whispering of protection spells, mutters of hastily remembered charms, and a few with their hands together seemingly praying.

The outside of the protective spell where it met with the hardening fall soil could be seen. The grass was undisturbed by the spell as it cast a pale blue tint to the surrounding area. Inside of it was peaceful, the wind itself not allowed through the protection. That was where the tranquility ended as what lay outside the spell, however, was a different matter.

Worried about Voldemort, Harry did not register the unnatural chill creeping up his spine. The once fall air was becoming colder and colder with every step he took. A cold that reached right down into his throat and tore at his lungs… and he felt that stealing sense of despair, of hopelessness, filling him, expanding inside him…

Harry's head moved to spy the dark shapes floated ethereal around, never touching the protection but lurking just beyond. Even without seeing their horrible gasping mouths or the decayed crusts that were their hands, Harry knew they were Dementors. Several of the students were crossing their arms, rubbing as though trying to produce a warmth that would not come. Not while the Dementors gathered, waiting for the shield to falter.

 _Fight it_ , he told himself. So, he continued to move forward as quickly as he could, focusing on the people around him, their warmth. He forced himself to think of Ron and Hermione, who would just be finishing assisting the younger years into the tower, before rushing out to the grounds. They needed him to be standing.

As though aware of him battling through the Dementor's aura, Harry felt his scar begin to throb with his thunderous heartbeat. Glad for the pain over the utter despair, Harry concentrated on the ache. He felt it surge from his forehead, through his cheeks, down his neck, and below. While the pain could not reach his stomach, he did become queasy, it twisting in knots over the conflicting emotions. Every step he took it became worse, until his eyes almost screwed shut against the pain.

A warm hand rested on Harry's back, and Neville's concerned face came into view.

"You all right, Harry?" he whispered in worry, though he was pale, and looked to be shaking.

"Fine," Harry grunted back, straightening himself. They continued to move, Neville keeping a hand there like a life line for both. Harry felt Neville's hand clench, right before Harry's scar burst open with searing agony.

Lord Voldemort stood a few paces away, his wand held aloft, dark robes gently ruffling in the cold winds, and his piercing red eyes stared unblinking at their approach. The blue glow from the shielding spell made his already pale skin appear hauntingly ghoulish.

Voldemort tilted his head, as though inspecting a hapless insect, and swung his arm in a cutting motion. Another cracking sound echoed loudly as the shield broke, dissolving into a mist that lingered like steam. The protection cast by the students was split with a simple gesture.

"Pathetic," said the high, cold voice with a jeer.

Cackles was scattered around, as Death Eaters appeared like specters from the shadows cast by the trees in the Forbidden Forrest. The dark robed witches and wizards quickly took positions behind the Dark Lord, and one witch with a mad laugh, to his side.

Harry felt nails from Neville's hand dig into his back, but it was a welcoming feeling compared to the ache in his chest. There was no doubt in Harry's mind who belonged to that laugh as he heard it often in his nightmares of Sirius's death. Harry turned towards his fellow Gryffindor to ask if he would remove his hand, but paused when he saw Neville's face.

The usually clumsy, but brave hearted boy Harry spent years with, had a harden look on his face. His nostrils flared in anger, eyes piercing, and his lips thinned so tightly they were white. As though being struck, Harry remembered Neville's parents, and decided Neville could clench his back if he needed.

"Voldemort," Riddle declared in a manner better suited to greet friends. "I've been looking forward to this meeting for some time."

"Strange way to show me your eagerness with all those pitiful protections," Voldemort said in scathing voice, his head tilting like a serpent eyeing a particularly clever mouse. His followers jeered, and hissed at Riddle. Voldemort spread his arms in a grand gesture, his eyes glinted maliciously, a curled smirk pulled at his thin lips. "I suppose I should not have expected better from a coward who hides behind silver masks… and a glamour."

Riddle's head tilted in thought, his hands behind his back, and his right-hand twitching. He did not respond right away, allowing the laughter from the Death Eaters to fade awkwardly, since Riddle did not appear intimidated in the least, and Voldemort's red eyes never left the man in front of him. As though waiting for the moment when everyone fell silent, Riddle stepped forward just as the last chuckle died, and raised his left hand.

Snap.

A silver shield crackling over the entire school so quickly many of the students backed away from it, and many of the Death Eaters jumped. The Dementors flailed, their great mouths sucking in air sharply, as they scattered away from the shield. Their cold dissipated with their absence and Harry felt the hairs on his arm raise, and the warmth of Riddle's shield pulsed deep into his skin akin to a _Patronous_.

Harry's eyes went to Riddle, who was standing just a foot outside the shield's protection, and his heart leapt into his throat.

"I do so tire of masks," Riddle began with his voice pitched high, and slow. His hand raised up to his face, a silver mask appearing in his grip. The same one from the Ministry.

Voldemort and Riddle stood only a few feet away from one another now. Harry could only see Voldemort's face, and the back of Riddle, but the Dark Lord's lowered brow, and twitch in his jaw conveyed the fury hiding underneath.

"Now, let's have a proper introduction," Riddle tossed the silver mask at Voldemort's feet, and his own figure shimmered as though seeing him through disturbed water, before it snapped back into view. Riddle began to move, allowing all to see his form.

Harry almost dropped his own wand in shock.

Riddle stood tall, and lithe framed, thinner than before, with cheeks gaunt, and skin pale. His dark hair had a shocking streak of white starting from his temple, and going back to the base of his skull. But, the thing that sent a shiver down Harry's spine was his red eyes. They appeared almost enflamed, ruby red like broken glass scattered through white, and the normally blue iris replaced by a deep, dark maroon color that reminded Harry of dried blood. The shocked gasps, and Neville loosening his hold, brought Harry back to the present.

Riddle strolled through the grass in the same manner he had at the Ministry, undaunted, but always keeping himself between Voldemort and Harry. The world seemed to narrow between the two men, the Death Eaters crept back into the shadows, almost blurring into the mangled tree line of the forest, and the students were behind Harry, silent spectators to the clash that would begin soon. Even the Dementors kept their distance, unsettling hovering in the air above like ill omens.

The men circled each other, Riddle calm, and Voldemort's expression did not change but his red eyes seem to burn in the light cast by the setting sun.

Slowly, Voldemort drew the yew wand between his long fingers.

Riddle's head tilted like a serpent, then matched the gesture by drawing his own yew wand.

They paused identically.

"It's not possible," Voldemort uttered.

"I find very few things are impossible," answered a voice, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that was not Voldemort speaking, but Riddle, his tone so matched to the Dark Lord's. The Death Eaters must have thought the same, as for the first time since the men began to circle, he heard them muttering to each other.

"Who are you?" Voldemort demanded.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr," Riddle answered quietly but his high, cold voice reached like a chilled wind across everyone gathered and each word hung in the air. Harry heard a sharp gasp from behind him, but never strayed his gaze from the two figures in front. Riddle's chin pointed up, and a growing smirk pulled at his lips, he continued, "Apprentice to Albus Dumbledore and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The words echoed out across the grounds as both men so alike, and yet nothing alike, raised their wands. Voldemort, eyes narrowed and his fury only given away by the throbs of pain resonating in Harry's scar, and Riddle, head tilted like a curious child, was almost serene if not for his shattered red eyes flickering in the sunset.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then two streams of green flew from identical wands to meet in the middle, loud as canon fire, and so strong the silver shield crackled even though it was not struck. A horrible whine cut through the air, worse than nails on a chalkboard, louder than a blowhorn, and made the ground tremble. Harry slapped his hands over his ears, the noise piercing his very brain, and ridding it of all thoughts other than to silence the terrible blaring whine.

As quickly as it started, the noise faded, and Harry's eyes sprung open just as the green light diminished.

Voldemort's pupils were narrowed to slits, the skin around his eyes white, and his thin lips parted by a hair. His wand was still outstretched even as the killing curse had faded into nothing, and for once, he appeared to be at a loss of what to do. Riddle mirrored the Dark Lord's posture, his own wand extended, but his expression was vastly different. The corner of his lip curled into a smile, his head still tilted, curious, and his eyes danced with amusement.

Tom Riddle for the first time, was absolutely in his element.

"A trick!" Voldemort snarled, and a corresponding wave of pain echoed through Harry, making him shut his eyes against it. "You think yourself more clever than Lord Voldemort?"

"Not more, just equally," Riddle teased and was rewarded with a vicious spell.

Riddle moved in time once more, but dodged it instead of countering, allow the spell to blast into the shield which crackled under the pressure, but held. The students, along with Professor McGonagall who Harry wasn't aware of, leapt back. Harry quickly looked over his shoulder, and could now make out many of the Order members including Moody, Lupin, Kingsley, Mr., and Mrs. Weasley. Amongst them were several professors, along with frightened, but otherwise unharmed, Aurors Savage, and Proudfoot.

"Explain," the Dark Lord demanded.

"No." answered Riddle, his smile growing enough to crease his nose, and display his teeth.

Voldemort snarled in rage, a sound truly frightening, and lashed out at the Headmaster. Riddle flicked his wrist, and the spell dissipated in midair, then with another twist, the ground shook.

The very grass, soil, and rocks moved together like flowing water, growing taller, and taller until it formed a giant snake almost as towering as a Basilisk. The Dementors hovering above lurched away from the shifting beast as it reared up. A hole opened at the top akin to a snake's mouth, striking for Voldemort. Inches from reaching the Dark Lord, green steam seeped from the horrible creation, its form quickly withering, and breaking apart, falling harmlessly to the ground within a second.

Then several things happened rapidly.

Voldemort stepped toward Riddle, bringing his wand up like a sword, and the air itself felt hot. Harry gasped for breath, having to stumble back, as the protective shield crackled and popped like burning wood. A few hands grabbed at Harry, holding him upright, as fire poured from Voldemort's wand. It rushed against the shield like a raging river and licked at the ground as it advanced towards Riddle, casting harsh light across his figure. As the fire nearly lapped at Riddle's feet, his form dissolved into black mist.

Harry's eyes tracked the mist which landed behind the front line of Death Eaters. Before the three hooded figures could react, a flash of red sparked, and they fell like rag dolls to the ground. Riddle's form appeared, a calm expression on his face.

Voldemort turned his wand, the fire disappeared, leaving behind chard ground with puffs of smoke still raising.

Riddle circled, his eyes focused on Voldemort, but the Death Eaters around him raised their wands. Unlike the battle in the graveyard, Voldemort did not call them off. Harry sucked in air, his lungs still burning from the harsh fire, to shout a warning, but Riddle did not need it. The spells aimed at Riddle's back collided with an invisible shield, bouncing back at their owners. A few of the clever ones ducked, including Bellatrix, but two were not fortunate. One let out a terrible shriek, a wound looking like a sword had sliced diagonally from shoulder to hip appeared. They fell, still crying, and the other one crumpled to the ground without a sound.

"You've lost," Voldemort announced with a victorious laugh, his wand raised once more, and instead of aiming at Riddle, pointed to Harry.

Harry could see Riddle's lips moving but no words as a green jet of light aimed right at Harry's chest came flying across the field. The shield, that had kept everyone safe shattered as the spell hit it, and before Harry had a chance to even raise his wand in defense, a dark mist appeared.

The horrible whining sound occurred once more, making Harry feel like it was cleaving his head in two. His eyes scrunched closed, but he fought against it, wanting to see what had happened.

The sound faded, and Harry heard the harsh breathing from Riddle standing in front of him, his shoulders rounded, head lowered, and he spoke. His voice caused Harry to step away even though it wasn't directed at him.

" _You_ … will not harm _my_ boy," his voice low, cold with fury.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits, though not in anger. In thought. Then, with a twitch, his thin lips parted into a cruel, mocking smile.

"You _care_ for him," Voldemort said in repulsion.

Riddle did not answer, and he didn't have to. Voldemort knew the truth as Riddle straightened, his wand flicking, and the shield around the school crackled as it returned one more, with Harry inside the protection, and Riddle, outside.

Each man observed the other, this time Riddle was quietly seething, and Voldemort was calm. The hooded figures moved around quietly, as though nervous, but no spells were cast. The Aurors, and Order still behind the protective shield were much the same. Wands out, all glancing at each other, ashen faced, and unsure. No one dared to interfere in this match.

Riddle and Voldemort circled once more, unblinking eyes staring at each other, steps measured, and wands grasped firmly between their fingers. They moved as one, tipping their yew wands up, and the air filled with electricity. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, his scar no longer throbbing, but a steady pressure of aching. He knew one thing for certain in that moment; this duel would be over with the next spell.

Then, Riddle smiled.

Two jets of blue shot at each other from the identical wands, but Riddle was moving forward with his, walking straight using the cover of the powerful light, he swiftly maneuvered into Voldemort's space. They met mere inches from each other, close enough to feel each other's breath. The spells died, but the chilling ringing echoed as it faded, and the glow remained for a moment longer.

Harry saw Riddle's lips move but could not hear what was said. Voldemort's eyes widen, and he stumbled back a few paces. Riddle remained still, watching his counterpart retreat with a blank expression on his face.

As though woken from a spell, Voldemort glanced over the area, finally taking in the number of Aurors, and Order of the Phoenix members had appeared. Then, his red eyes went to his Death Eaters, some were fallen, a few stood ready to right, but many more shaken by Riddle's competence, unsure of the battle.

Voldemort tilted his head, a moment, then vanished with a crack.

His Death Eaters instantly reacted, retreating into the forest quickly Any attempt to pursue blocked by Dementors who flooded down to protect the exiting figures. Several of the Aurors moved towards them, but were stopped by the shield.

"They're getting away!" shouted a gruff voice far to Harry's left. Harry turned to see the Minister, along with several Aurors all shouting, and desperately attempting to bring down the shield.

The Order members were still with their eyes on Riddle who was the only one capable of going after the Death Eaters, but he stood perfectly still, his eyes on the spot where Voldemort vanished from. Riddle blinked, took a breath, and then calmly walked over to the hooded figure whimpering on the ground. Harry held his own breath, wondering what he was going to do, the visions of Riddle shoving Draco nearly off a tower coming to mind. He wanted to move forward, but the shock of everything that happened held him in place, unable to make his legs move.

Riddle flicked his wand, and the Death Eater groaned. Riddle kneeled, his hand moving over the mask, and he removed it. A man with a rather lumpy face lay beneath, his eyes wide in fear, his face pale, with sweat dripping. Riddle tapped the mask with his wand, and held it out. The man, who looked suspiciously like Goyle, followed the movement with his eyes.

"You are going to St. Mungo's, or Azkaban. Your choice," Riddle said calmly.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, and he reached out a hand. With a pop, he vanished, along with the mask. Riddle had made a portkey.

"You cannot make portkeys without permission," said the Minister weakly, but Riddle wasn't paying any attention to him, or the other voices yelling at him.

Instead, he walked to every fallen Death Eater, pulled their mask off so everyone could see who they were, and sent them to St. Mungo's. Harry recognized Malfoy amongst the group, his blonde hair, and pointed face giving him away. He wondered if Draco would be joining him. One by one, they all vanished, and the Minister seemed to tire himself out, falling quiet by the time Riddle completed his task.

When he finished, Riddle finally set his red gaze upon the gathered students, professors, order, and Ministry officials. With a gesture, the shield fell. Although everyone before were shouting to be let out, now that the shield was gone, and there was nothing between them, and Riddle, they paused.

"I suggest," Riddle began, his eyes on Scrimgeour. "You send your Aurors to St. Mungo's to retrieve the new arrives. Once they've been treated of course."

"I should have you arrested," The Minister said, but made no move to do so. The Aurors surrounding him were all frozen, some making frantic expressions at each other.

"Perhaps, but I fear St. Mungos would run out of beds," Riddle commented. Without waiting for the Minister to respond, "Minerva, Horace, Pomona, and Filius if you would be so kind as to take your students back into the castle. I will be returning to my office, should any of you need me."

No one moved to heed his orders, but Riddle marched forward as though nothing were amiss, and this was another day as Headmaster. Once he stepped onto the undamaged ground that was protected by the shield during the duel, Riddle's head turned, and his eyes landed on Harry.

"Harry," he said softly. "If you would please accompany me."

Harry felt hands tighten on him, and looked over to see Ron, and Hermione holding him. They must have been there for most of the duel, but Harry did not notice as he was too concentrated on the battle. Ron's freckles stuck out against his skin, and Hermione's lips were almost white. He looked over to Riddle, who waited patiently, then back to his friends.

Harry shrugged off their hold. They both looked like they wanted to grab him again, argue, but didn't. Harry walked towards Riddle, every pair of eyes on them as he did.

Riddle lifted an arm, then wrapped it around Harry's shoulder, tugging him close. Harry was too shocked and aware of all the eyes to pull away, though he wanted to. Up close he could see all the changes to Riddle's face, and his body. He had been normal built before, but now was lithe, and his long fingers resting on Harry's shoulder made him shudder. Luckily, Riddle was looking ahead, so his unsettling eyes were not directed at Harry.

Harry was led through the crowd, which slowly parted for them. McGonagall watched them pass with wide eyes, and her hand twitched towards them as though to grab Harry away, but she stilled herself. Moody had both of his eyes trained on them, his scarred face blank of expression. The worst was Lupin who stayed still, blocking the path, and Harry wanted desperately to tell him not to, but Tonks pulled Lupin aside. Lupin looked betrayed by her, but she nodded towards Harry, and he was grateful. There was little doubt in anyone's mind after watching the duel that Riddle could kill any of them if he desired.

Out the corner of his eye, he could see Neville being tugged by Luna Lovegood, her face serene. She gave a little wave towards Harry, and he felt the absurd urge to laugh.

The grounds were oddly quiet, just the sound of two sets of feet crunching through the grass, and the occasional breeze. No one dared follow them close enough to be heard, not even the Aurors or the Minister. Harry's steps became heavier as Riddle leaned more on him during their journey, but Harry did not complain. The oak doors swung open from a gesture from Riddle, and the dark corridor of the castle became lit as the torches ignited. Pops from the flames echoed as they entered together.

"Is anyone behind us?" Riddle whispered, causing Harry to flinch.

Harry twisted his head to spy the area behind them. "No."

"Good," Riddle said, and his weight came crashing onto Harry's body.


	15. The Order Descending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I hope this chapter answers a lot of the questions you all have. There will still be some unanswered questions, but they WILL be answered before the end. Also, get ready for… lots of talking in this chapter. Lots, and lots of talking. I also, may or may not have, spent 12 hours non-stop writing to get this done in a single day.

Harry nearly dropped Riddle for the second time as they neared the Headmaster's office. Riddle had insisted they get out of sight quickly, and for once, Harry didn't argue. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his forehead, and his knobby knees shook under carrying the weight of a full-grown man up the marble staircase, and onto the platform. Harry was breathing heavily, and his palms sweaty by the time the stone gargoyle was in reach.

"Milly," Harry huffed the password, not watching the stone gargoyle spring aside, as he could barely pick up his head now. Riddle's arm was pressing against his neck, and Harry had to readjust his hold, then drag the man. When he pulled Riddle onto the moving stairs, Harry finally turned towards Riddle.

Riddle was ashen, his veins sticking easily seen as though is skin were paper, and his eyes closed. Harry would worry that Riddle might be as dead as he looked, but he felt every racking breath Riddle took, and the wheeze of air that exhaled from his dry lips.

They reached the top of the spiral stairs, and before Harry could tug the Headmaster any further, a dark shape reached out. The door behind them slammed shut and a familiar locking sound echoed.

"Move aside," Snape demanded, flicking his wand, and levitating Riddle.

Harry felt the cold air against his sweaty skin and shivered at the loss of Riddle's heat, but he was grateful for the weight being taken. He watched as Snape roughly cleared the messy desk, pushing all the objects off in a great sweep of his arm, then placed Riddle's body on it. Harry flinched against the clanging of broken bobbles, and abused objects throw casually away. The papers were barely settling when Harry approached. The flickering lights from the torches did little to make Riddle appear any more alive.

Riddle's eyes cracked open.

"Ah, Severus," he whispered hoarsely. "I believe Mrs. Lestrange got me from behind."

"Quit speaking," Snapped the Professor, the tip of his wand glowing a faint blue, then turned a nasty shade of purple when it hovered over Riddle's chest. "Potter, help me turn him."

Harry rushed forward, taking hold of Riddle's legs as Snape grabbed Riddle's shoulders. Together they turned him over, and Riddle let out a low, pained moan. With a quick jab of his wand, Snape cut the robes off Riddle's back from the hip up. Riddle's wand went clattering to the floor with shreds of his robes, which Snape picked up the wand, pocketing it into a hidden compartment within his own robes. Harry opened his mouth to complain, but the sight of Riddle left him speechless.

On Riddle's back was a nasty slash that oozed dark blood. It was nearly the width of Harry's wrist, and expanded from Riddle's right shoulder, curving across to his collarbone, down his back and nearing his waist. Now that it was exposed, the wound filled quickly with blood, and began spilling over, rapidly soaking the oak desk. Harry wanted to reach forward, try to pull the two pieces of flesh back together, but Snape was already moving swiftly.

Several threads of cerulean attached to either side of the wound, and instead of pulling them closer, began to weave themselves over the wound. Tighter, and tighter they wove, as endless threads corded from Snape's wand. The bleeding stopped where the thread covered, but the blood poured from where it had yet to envelop like a lid going on an overboiled pot.

Harry glanced at Riddle's face which was turned towards him. Riddle's eyes were closed once more, and his lips were turning an alarming shade of white. Harry turned towards Snape, who's dark eyebrows were pinched together, and lips thinned.

"He needs blood-replenishing potions," Harry said.

"What do you think the bottles behind me are," hissed Snapped, his unblinking eyes never leaving Riddle's back.

Harry pulled his eyes away from the two men at the desk, and finally observed the office. The many portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses were all awake, no longer pretending to be otherwise, and were silently watching what was occurring. Albus Dumbledore was leaned forward, his half-moon spectacles slipped further down his crooked nose than usual, and his face serious. Harry did not allow himself to linger, much as he would have liked, on Dumbledore, instead he moved on to the various instruments, and items. Among the normal whirling spirals, and glasses, was a dingy table Harry recognized instantly as Snape's by the various stains through the years. The dark wood stood out against the lively oak wood that adorned the room, and the various vials of potions on top, ranging from a great round glass with a bright yellow liquid, to a tiny vial with a cork stopper filled with thick black liquid akin to tar.

Harry rifled through them, pulling out a square glass jar no bigger than the palm of his hand, filled with red liquid. When Snape didn't question him, he didn't hesitate to pull out the cork, and put the vial to Riddle's lips.

"Come on," Harry begged, watching a few drops leak from the bottle, and across the white lips that did not respond.

"Lift his head," Snape instructed.

"I can't touch him," Harry snapped, angry at himself more than the Potion Master. "It's—"

"Not now," the Professor snapped, switching his wand to his left hand to continue the spell while his other hand came down to wrap his fingers around Riddle's hair, then pulled. Riddle's head was at an uncomfortable angle, but Harry didn't worry. He shoved the lip of the bottle into Riddle's mouth, and tipped it.

Riddle's throat constricted, swallowing the liquid about of habit.

"Another," Snape said, keeping his hold in place.

Harry did as he was told. It took three potions in total before Riddle's eyes popped back open, and he groaned. Harry was never so happy to hear a complaint previously in his life. Riddle's maroon eyes appeared dull, his lids half-closed, and he blinked slowly as though threatening to not reopen but he was awake.

"Hello," Harry said without thinking.

"Hello," Riddle responded back, his voice rough, and half-slurred by his position.

"You're an absolute _berk_ ," Harry chimed, though his insult fell rather flat because he was grinning, and unshed tears were welling up.

"I cannot argue that," Riddle muttered, his lips tugging up, then falling as he hissed in pain.

"Keep him awake," Snape ordered as he moved through his potions, pulling up one with green liquid, and poured it onto Riddle's back. The woven threads appeared to glow for a few seconds, before settling back to blue once more. Harry couldn't see any improvements but he could keep Riddle awake through one way.

"Got it," Harry nodded, and he pulled up the chair he often sat in when visiting next to where Riddle's head lay on the desk. He looked over Riddle's torn back, the ashen skin, the knobs of bone that stuck out between his muscles, and to his face that resembled the man Harry had come to know, but was sharp where it was once soft, and eyes, even dulled, appeared to glow red. "So, talk."

Riddle hesitated.

"I—I do not know where to begin," Riddle admitted.

"Tell me why you have red eyes," Harry offered.

For a moment, the office was quiet. Harry waited in the chair, Riddle laid upon his own desk stained with his blood, and Snape, who Harry was sure was awaiting a response as well, though his face was blank of expression.

"I'm ashamed to admit, I attempted to become a Dark Lord when I was younger," Riddle began softly. "After the death of my mother, I felt nothing could hold me back from attaining the power I so coveted during my years at Hogwarts, so I pursued it."

"How did your mother really die?" Harry asked, his fingers tightening on his robes. Riddle flinched as though struck, and Harry knew. He could no longer take anything Riddle said for granted. No more filling in the blanks of Riddle's stories with his own benign ideals. Riddle was not so innocent.

"I killed her by accident," Riddle's eyes fell shut. "She attempted to get me expelled from Hogwarts several times during the first year, so dependent upon me for everything she could not stand to let me live elsewhere, and she nearly succeeded in achieving that goal. I was so frightened to live with her again… I put poison in her food, enough to sicken her so she could not protest… it worked for years, but then…" –Riddle took a deep breath, and his eyes opened, imploring towards Harry— "Please believe no matter her faults, and how it ended, I did love my mother."

"I believe you," Harry offered, then repeated strongly, "How did she die?"

Riddle paused, licked his chapped lips, and continued, "I miscalculated the poison during winter holiday in my sixth year, on purpose or not I cannot tell you as I was very angry at the time, and it killed her sometime after I returned to school. I received the news three weeks after she died due to the neighbors complaining of a smell…"

"That's horrible," Harry whispered.

"I know."

Neither spoke for a stretch of time, but the sounds of Snape muttering spells, of flesh being tugged back together kept them company. Harry had to get up and retrieve another blood replenishing potion, and help Riddle take it. This time, Riddle could hold his own head up long enough to finish it, before plopping back down.

Harry looked over Riddle's wound. Despite Snape's efforts, the edges of the skin were swollen, puckering mess, and bright red. The surrounding skin was starting to purple with bruising, and Harry wondered how Riddle stood so calmly against Voldemort with this wound on his back, and the strength no doubt leaving him. Riddle must have been in utter agony as he portkeyed the Death Eaters off the grounds and into St. Mungo's.

_If the Minister knew how close Riddle was to falling, he would have arrested him,_ Harry thought. _Or killed him_.

Harry took a deep breath, and thought over the last year with Riddle. All the private moments where Riddle doubted himself, the curious humor, and his strange way of putting Harry at ease. The images did not go well against the man's current appearance, the torturing of Umbridge, and nearly throwing Draco off the tower.

Or the man that stood confidently in front of a killing curse for Harry, warning Lord Voldemort never to harm him.

Harry glanced up at the portrait of Dumbledore, who's piercing blue eyes were on Harry, for how long before Harry noticed he could not say, but the sad smile on the old Headmaster's face told him it was probably for some time now. Harry wanted desperately in that moment for Dumbledore to give him some guidance, a hint at what he must do. Then, a thought struck him.

"Did Dumbledore know?" he asked, still staring at the portrait.

"Yes," Riddle answered immediately, as though expecting. "He knew it all… he wouldn't have trusted me if I lied."

"What made him trust you?"

"I think…" Riddle began slowly, his own head turning towards the portrait. "When I told him I confessed my crimes to the Wizengamot, and went to Azkaban for them."

"As ever, you are quite missing the mark," Dumbledore said, his voice deepened in emotion, and his eyes now focused on the new Headmaster. "It was not that you confessed your crimes, or went to Azkaban, though of course," he added, as if fearing he had been discourteous. "I do not minimize the courage or suffering you took upon doing so."

"It took less than one would imagine," Riddle said.

"My dear boy, you are many things, but a coward is not one of them," Dumbledore began sternly. "I trusted you when I learned what you did not do. What you had the opportunity to do, the same as Voldemort, and chose to forgive, instead of exact revenge. It was that moment," Dumbledore's voice was quiet, serious, and offered no room for argument, "that, I think, made all the difference in the world."

Riddle's face was turned away from Harry, but he did not miss the slight tremble, or Snape's quiet assessment. The usually stern Professor who seemed to enjoy the suffering of others, had his head down on his work, and pinched his lips shut. If anything, he appeared more determined to heal Riddle than before.

"What was that choice?" Harry asked blatantly.

"I chose not to kill my father," Riddle answered, still facing away. "When I turned Seventeen, and the Ministry tracker was no longer upon my wand, I took my spring holiday tracking down my living relatives. The easiest to find was my uncle Morfin Gaunt. Unsightly man, mad, and spoke ill of my mother. He and I argued, him accusing me of being that 'filthy muggle from down the road', and me, being wildly arrogant. It did not take long for me to understand he meant my father when he spoke of the muggle man, and when he spoke of my father leaving my mother… I snapped."

"Did you kill Morfin?" asked Harry, his heart beating against his chest right where the ring still lay on a chain. The ring he received that came from the Gaunt family.

"Yes," Riddle whispered. "I killed him, and that was my second murder, but this was the first time I did it with intent. He attacked first, but I struck him down without remorse." – Riddle's voice grew dark as though reliving his anger— "Then, I went to my father's house with the same intention, letting my anger boil, and fester enough resentment towards the man who left my mother. I nearly convinced myself that he was the reason my mother was mad by the time I knocked on his door. We were both lucky that day because my grandmother answered instead."

Riddle cut off with a hiss, as Snape attempting another healing spell. Harry took the interruption to get another potion, and feeding it to Riddle. For several moments, the sickening dripping of blood from the desk, potion bottles clanging together, and sharp breaths from Riddle, filled the room. The previous Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts were doing their best attempts at pretending to give them privacy but all eyes on the trio below. Dumbledore was the only one running his hand idly through his great beard in deep thought, and making no pretenses to his attention. The wound was no more sealed than before Riddle began speaking, but his lips were tinged pink, and his eyes were becoming sharper due to the potions When those eyes threatened to start drooping once more, Harry continued their conversation.

"What happened when your grandmother answered?" Harry asked when everyone settled back down.

"I admit I was at a loss what to do," Riddle said, his face laying toward Harry once more. He folded his arms up, resting his cheeks upon them, as though sunbathing. "I only expected my father to still be living, so when I saw this frail, old muggle woman who had my nose, it was a shock. She instantly recognized me as a grandson, taking me to the table where the rest of the family was having dinner. I went from only knowing I had a mad uncle, to seeing my muggle grandparents, and father, who looked much like I would in twenty odd years. She introduced me, and an argument broke out."

"My grandfather wanted nothing to do with me, calling me a _bastard child_ , while my father sat quiet. I could not keep my eyes off him, and like a child, I wanted to hear his voice. The voice of my father. I wanted to know if I sounded like him, did he enjoy the same foods as I, and if he or I were taller. It was as if the anger was sucked out of me, and replaced with childish wishes."

Harry could see the gathering tears, but chose not to comment on them. They paused while Riddle gathered his thoughts.

"You can imagine how terrible it was to hear him say I was no son of his," Riddle put on an unconvincing casual tone, but Harry knew better. The sharp pain that was not his own echoed through him, his scar throbbing once more. "Once more, my anger gathered. I revealed myself as a wizard, binding them to their chairs. I ranted how mistreated I was, I screamed, and shouted at him for perhaps hours… it felt like _years_. When I grew hoarse, and could not shout any longer, I aimed my wand at him, ready to end it all. I had embarrassed myself, I thought, by showing how his very existence affected me so. I could not let him live…"

Harry wanted to ask, to demand to know what happened, but he stayed silent. Gripping at his own legs, and forcing his mouth shut, Harry listened, and allowed Riddle the time to tell him. He needed Riddle to freely explain, not just answer questions. It was time he offered answers without prompting.

"It was my grandmother who spoke up," Riddle whispered, his eyes distant as though reliving the memory. "She _apologized_ , and offered herself as sacrifice for her son's sins against me. Once more, I was struck by her manner, and stayed my hand. She spoke how sudden his departure was, and how confused my father was when he returned. She offered the theory that my mother… _bewitched_ him. At first, the suggestion outraged me, thinking she was trying to get her son off the hook, but… it made sense." –Riddle gave a rueful, bitter smile— "My mother wasn't beautiful, or even average looking. She was… a product her breed, and my father… handsome and rich… she could brew potions… it made so much _sense_."

Riddle's hands clenched into fists, his face tight, and shoulders tense.

"I oblivated them, and left, humbled, and worse than I entered," Riddle spoke between his teeth. "I was furious, but could not lay blame with him for his choice. Instead, I spent the next year living in isolation, travelling little, and obsessing over my shame."

"There was no shame in letting your father live, or being upset at your mother," Harry said. "If what you told me last year was true, you had a right to be."

"Yes, that is true," said Riddle quickly, as though embarrassed by his need for reassurance. "Yet, I let that anger control me for longer than I should. It drove me forward, and into dark places."

"Where you did…" Harry started, then gesturing to Riddle's form.

"Yes…" Riddle gave a slow nod. "I… tried to walk the same path Voldemort did to create his immortality. Like him, during my school days I opened the Chamber of Secrets, and tamed the Basilisk that dwelled within. I used it to attack students I disliked, but… stopped short of murdering anyone. Not out of good intentions but I feared discovery, and Albus was good at keeping an annoyingly close watch, so I put the beast to rest only visiting when I needed a place to practice Dark Arts in privacy."

"My powers flourished in the Chamber. Soon, I could perform spells that dazzled all the professors at school, and grew a grand reputation. By the time I left school that year, there was hardly a student in Slytherin who wouldn't dedicate their lives to me if I asked," Riddle despite his words, looked mortified. "I made my first attempt at immortality at eighteen through a horrible method. I performed the ritual correct, a thing of nightmares, and when it came time to murder someone to finish it, my soul… rebelled."

"It… rebelled?" asked Harry blankly. He wasn't sure how a soul could do anything.

"It refused to split," Riddle said coldly. "It tore, and shred, but it was whole. The person I killed, I put myself in a dangerous situation hoping for a reason to end a life, and it worked, but it wasn't cold blooded enough for the spell. Instead, I felt as though I were being pulled apart, torn to ribbons, pain beyond pain… I suffered through it for several days, and for months after my breathing was taut. The attempt shaped my body to what you see. However, … I tried once more, convinced it was just the act of murder that needed more conviction. A second attempt was made, and once more I failed."

"Did you murder someone?" asked Harry.

"Yes," Riddle's eyes drifted shut once more, but his voice as clear. "It was a horrible man, who traded people like items. I assuaged myself that I was ridding the world of someone it could do without. I trapped him, a muggle man, in his very house, pointed my wand, and cast the killing curse at his chest without a word. But, it wasn't enough for the foul ritual. While he had not wronged me, it was still not the kind of cold blooded murder the spell demanded, and for that, I merely tore my soul once more, a pain unlike any other, once again crippled me. I had to crawl out of his house, so drained of magic, and hide myself before the local muggle authorities came. My eyes startled the few muggles who attempted to assist, becoming red as you see them now, and they instead ran from me, screaming of devil men. It was, perhaps, more humiliating than when I left my father's house."

They paused once more, Harry reaching for the last blood replenishing potion left on the table. He made a mental note to run for more, as he handed it to Riddle, who took it quickly. When Harry settled back into the chair, without prompting, Riddle continued.

"After my second failed attempt at immortality, I decided I was too weak to achieve my goals of being a Dark Lord," Riddle began once more, his eyes staring off blankly at the book shelf. "I was disheartened by my lack of conviction, and fell into a severe depression. I wanted some connection to the life I knew, and went looking for my childhood sitter, Milly. She was a kind, and sweet woman, that my mother was convinced would one day steal me, I was hidden from her. I craved something familiar, and when all I found was a gravestone, I went back to the shack my mother and I lived in, and spent the better part of a year wasting away there. I refused to do any magic, putting my wand away, and grew thin. It seemed like a beacon of hope when one day, for the first time in my life, someone knocked on my door."

"Albus Dumbledore, freshly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, came offering me a job," Riddle's lips twitched up. "He had a bargain for me. Confess my crimes, serve time in Azkaban for them, and when I was released, I would apprentice under him. I thought him mad for the offer, but took it from him anyway. When I confessed my crimes, many on the Wizengambot were old schoolmates or people of influence who knew of me. They softened the sentence tremulously, especially after Albus gave a rather tearful testimony of my childhood abuse. I spent seven years locked away, isolated besides the occasional visit from Albus. He would chat with me as though visiting my house, not my cell. It took him nearly all of my sentence before I trusted his intentions. But, once I was out, the court ordered me to glamour my appearance, and put me on a permanent probation with a Wand Keeper so I could work in Hogwarts," –after seeing Harry's blank expression, added— "Someone who has authority to keep my wand from me, and only release it to me if they deem my need for it worthy."

Harry frowned, remembering Snape handing Riddle his wand right before the battle, and then, gathering it up from the floor. His eyes darted between the two.

"Professor Snape is your Wand Keeper here?"

"Yes," Riddle huffed a humorless laugh, and turned his face away from Harry, but not before Harry saw the tears gathering in his eyes. Harry glanced up at Snape, who had been muttering spells quietly as to not disturb the two speaking, but now he was silent as well. Snape's dark gaze peered at Harry, and Harry held contact.

"Professor," Harry began quietly. "How is his wound?"

"Dark magic spells rarely have cures, especially when Lestrange is behind them," He answered, but continued to lift his wand, another spell. Harry noticed the blood had stopped spilling from the wound, so there was progress. Snape turned his head slightly towards Riddle. "St. Mungo's will have a better chance of fixing you."

"I shall leave this to you," Riddle replied. "If I dare leave this school, or show any weakness, Voldemort will know and we will lose what little advantage we have gained. I will not put the students at risk."

Snape was scowling, and looked ready to argue more but closed his mouth in a polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Instead, he turned back to his table of dwindling potions, grabbed one with golden liquid, and held it out. Riddle took it without question.

"The Dark Lord will return once he has gathered his army. He will be pressured to grow his forces quicker now that he knows you are here," Snape's scowl deepened as he sorted his table, as though delaying. "He will want to kill you, you realize."

"Oh yes," Riddle gave a nod. "He will try, and try, until he succeeds in my death, of that I have little doubt."

"Let's focus on patching up his back first," Harry argued, standing up, his chest tightening at the thought of Voldemort killing Riddle. "Then, we can work on putting a stop to Voldemort's plans."

"I've offered my solution," Snape raised an eyebrow and his tone was sardonic. "But, I'm sure the great Potter has a better one."

"We can always ask Dumbledore," Harry offered with a shrug. His eyes went up to the golden frame. "Any ideas?"

"Yes, let's ask the man without any medical magic," Snape muttered, roughly sorting through his potions once more.

"Severus is rather correct," Dumbledore began with a soft tone. "I am little use to most ailments; however, Professor Trimble is quite knowledgeable in the Dark Arts."

Harry's head turned to spot a portly man with a white beard that reached just below the collar of his robes, and the beginning signs of baldly. Professor Trimble's rosy nose twitched as he sat up, and began speaking.

"I've little in the way of curing dark magical wounds," he began in a deep voice that reminded Harry of Hagrid. "I'm much more acquainted with defense. I've written a marvelous book about it, have you by chance had an occasion to read-" but he was cut off.

"Yes, yes, we've all read _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ , Quentin," snipped another portrait. "Requiring it to pass Defense Against the Dark Arts made sure everyone has read it, as you so enjoy reminding us."

This one Harry recognized immediately as Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great grandfather. The sour looking wizard was Harry's least favorite of the Headmasters. It did not help that another portrait of Phineas hung at number 12 Grimmauld place, so Harry had to hear this particular wizard in both locations.

"A book," muttered another portrait. This one, who Harry often spotted playing chess, adjusted his round spectacles. The writing below his portrait named him 'Walter Aragon'. Aragon was dressed in formal robes, had a tiny black mustache barely the width of his nose, and a pin of some kind of beetle over his left breast. "Now there's an idea. Potter, fetch the old leather book titled _Curses and Hexes: The Advanced Cures_ from that shelf."

Harry followed his pointed finger, and had to cast a light to make out the titles on the old books. Many of the spines were falling apart, crumbling as Harry ran his finger over them. He listened to several of the portraits offer their ideas of where the book rested, but stopped following their advice when he circled on the same spot twice. Instead, he went book by book until he found it.

It crinkled unpleasantly as he opened it, and Harry worried it would fall apart before he could see if it would help. Putting his wand between his teeth so the tip of his wand kept the light, Harry flipped through to the index. The old writing was faded, and he had to squint, but it was readable.

"Check the section on Dark Curses," Aragon offered. "Should be nearer to the back, if my memory serves me."

Harry walked closer to the desk, quickly going over the pages, until he found the section. His finger guided him down, but he saw a problem. A lot of the counters, and instructions were in Latin, and Harry didn't know much.

"Can you pass it to me?" asked Riddle, holding out a hand. Harry was grateful he didn't have to admit he couldn't read it. He passed the book to Riddle, who instantly started scanning the pages. Harry stood near, allowing the light from his wand to make it easier for Riddle to read.

There were several minutes of Riddle flipping through the book, Snape preventing any more blood from spilling, various muttering from the portraits, and Harry hovering nervously. The quiet of the office did allow Harry to think on everything that was said.

Harry was certain he knew who Riddle was when last year ended. That image was sharpened during their summer together, and if asked, Harry would say next to Dumbledore, Riddle was the best man he currently knew. Having the image, he held so dearly ripped to shreds, wasn't something Harry expected. There was so much information to sift through, Harry found it easier to focus on the things that were similar, that were true. It was strangely lifting to know the truth. The ring Riddle gave him hung lighter around Harry's neck than it had in weeks.

He knew now that the nervousness, the insecurity, wasn't all fake. Riddle had a poor opinion of himself, and that was true. Harry knew why that was, having heard of Riddle's parents, both rejecting their son. His father saying, he did not have a son, and his mother pretending that Riddle didn't have magic. They were both rejections of who Riddle was, what made him, and Harry couldn't imagine having parents who disowned him. He only had the Dursleys, but they weren't his parents. The blow to Harry's sense of self was less since he could pretend he had loving parents, and later finding out he did have parents who loved him, made him stronger.

Riddle never had that. He only knew the resentment.

Harry also wondered on the horrible crimes Riddle committed. He admitted to murdering three people, and yet Harry did not find himself shrinking away from the man who quietly read a book while his life hung in the balance from a bleeding wound that would not close on his back. Harry watched as Riddle's shattered red eyes scanned the pages, his index finger raising to his lips to wet the tip, before turning to another page. The unnatural pallor of his skin stretched thin over his muscles, making him appear closer to the ghosts of the school than its living Headmaster. Yet, Harry did not feel a sense of fear, or disgust.

He didn't know what he felt, honestly, but that could be sorted once Riddle was safe.

"Potter," Snape's voice shook Harry out of his thoughts like the crack of a whip. "Run to my potion stores, and bring Blood Replenishing Potions, _all of them_ , and Pepper-up."

"Pepper-up?" Harry questioned, his eyes darting to Riddle who was unbothered, still reading.

"Shall I waste precious time explaining while our Headmaster bleeds out, or will you fetch me what I ask for before that occurs?" Snape's brows lowered, his voice dry.

Harry didn't bother arguing, instead turning on his heel, and heading to the door. He made it down the stairs, and his hand reached for the knob when the door suddenly glowed a violent red. Harry sprung back, his wand pointed at the doorway, just as the door burst open.

Leading the way was Mad-Eye Moody, his normal eye focused straight ahead in the room, while the large magical eye spinning by itself as though looking for threats. Professor McGonagall was just behind him, her hat more askew than normal, fingers tight on her wand as it outstretched in front of her. Then came Tonks, Lupin, followed closely by Kingsley, and bringing up the rear was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the latter of whom was successfully pushing her way forward, nearly tripping her poor husband in the process, crying out Harry's name. Harry took note of a certain Minister who was not present in the group.

The Order paused when they all spilled into the office in various states of disarray. If Harry had to guess, they most likely spent a good amount of time just outside the office door planning on fighting their way to save Harry from Riddle. Harry turned to see how Riddle was taking this intrusion, and snorted so hard, the roof of his mouth hurt from the force of it.

Riddle was up on his elbows, looking utterly startled, his red eyes comically wide, his mouth half open, and his bare chest exposed. The tatters of his robes hung off his elbows from where Snape's spell cut them, and his sides were stained with dried blood. Behind him was Snape, who was starkly unaffected by the sudden appearance of the Order. If anything, he appeared mildly annoyed at being interrupted, never pausing as shoved Riddle down to lay flat on the desk as he murmured another healing spell.

"Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried out, pulling Harry into a sudden hug. "Are you all right?"

"'m fine," Harry managed, being squeezed into the plump woman's body. She held her grip for a few seconds, and Harry allowed himself to sink into it. It was a magic Mrs. Weasley had, that Harry imagined all Mothers might, to feel absolutely safe as long as she held him, and Harry relished it, as it wasn't often he was on the receiving end of such hugs.

"Molly, release Potter," Snape requested, Harry noticed a decidedly nicer tone with Mrs. Weasley than he ever took with Harry. "He has to fetch me some potions."

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped with an authority that instinctually made Harry flinch. "Explain why you are helping this man."

"He's the Headmaster," Snape responded, picking up another potion, and handing it to Riddle, who took it mechanically. "He is also the savior of the school, if you recall this evening's events."

"If his words during the duel are to be taken seriously, he is also He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," McGonagall replied, her wand still trained on Riddle, but her stance was less tense. Riddle slowly moved back down onto his chest, watching the tip of McGonagall's wand follow his movements with a pinched expression.

"We shall explain all," Snape said, his eyes back on Harry, who was now being practically manhandled by Mrs. Weasley. "Once you allow Potter to go, but not a moment sooner."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, pulling himself out of Mrs. Weasley's hold. She looked as though to grab him again, but Harry held up his hand. He nearly faltered at her hurt expression, but he turned to Lupin, who he knew would listen to him. Lupin also had his wand trained on Riddle, but his eyes were on Harry. "He's not Voldemort, and he's not going to harm anyone. He got that wound defending the school, and he's going to bleed out if I don't get some potions. Listen to him, and Snape explain things, and I'll be back soon."

Lupin glanced at the potion's master who waited impatiently over Riddle, and then back at Harry. Tonks shifted near Lupin, and Harry knew if Lupin believed, so would she. Kingsley and Moody were near the front, both stern, but holding their position, not attacking. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had their wands lowered already, bringing up the rear of the group, and their gazes shifting between Riddle and Harry.

"Listen to him?" asked Lupin.

"Yes."

"All right, Harry," he responded warily, his wand slowly lowering. "This better be good."

"It will be," Harry said, before pushing himself through the crowd, and down the stairs. He paused around the corner, his ears straining to hear up the stairwell. Worry built up in his chest, wondering if the Order were merely waiting for Harry to leave before trying to hex Riddle. When only soft sounds of voices filtered down after a minute of waiting, Harry breathed easier.

The normally busy hallways during Halloween were empty. The various pumpkin decorations swayed gentle in the breeze kicked up by Harry running through the halls, his footsteps echoing the only sound that accompanied him on his trip. Harry knew he was close to the storage room when the air grew colder. The dungeons never seemed to be warm even in the middle of summer, and with fall setting in, the chill was becoming quite sharp.

Harry grabbed an empty box from the floor of the storage room, and began filled it with all the squared, red potion bottles he could find. He wondered if he had time to stop by the Hospital Ward for more, but Riddle had gone some time without a new potion. He would most likely be feeling rather faint soon, and being surrounded by Order members would not assist.

Harry stashed the two Pepper-up potion vials in his pockets, having filled the box completely. His return trip to the office was much slower, to Harry's annoyance. The sharp clanging of glass hitting each other joined his footsteps this time, and Harry felt his arms growing numb from carrying the weight. He was half tempted to try a levitation spell on the box, but worried if he lost concentration that all the glasses would shatter. So, he carried them by hand instead. He became increasingly aware of the extra time it was taking, sweat starting to gather at his hairline from the physical exertion, and his stomach fluttering in nerves.

By the time Harry stepped back onto the moving staircase, his stomach was in horrible knots. He didn't wait for the stairs to bring him to the top, instead huffing as he charged up.

He almost collapsed with relief when he saw Riddle still breathing on the desk, a bit paler in his lips, but appearing to be well. The Order was spread across the office, Moody and Kingsley were by the corners of the desk, both had their wands still out but were not pointing them at Riddle anymore. Lupin had his arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face, and idly tapping his wand against his upper-arm. Tonks was sitting on the railing that separated the office space from the bookshelves, while the Weasleys were listening by Fawkes's old perch. McGonagall stood near Snape, a book in her own hand, and flipping through it.

Snape, who had just been explaining how Dumbledore wrote a letter of recommendation for Riddle to be headmaster, paused when Harry came in.

"Did you stop for tea along the way?" he sneered.

"Oh yeah," Harry huffed, bringing up the box, and as gently as he could in his exhausted state, set it on the table. "Biscuits too."

He heard Tonks cough, clearly covering up a laugh, and Dumbledore's smile brighten. Harry scooped out one of the potions, and handed it to Riddle, who thanked him, before collapsing into the chair, which was thankfully left unoccupied. His arms hung uselessly by his side, the muscles tingling unpleasantly, and his eyes fell shut.

"I don't see Pepper-up among this batch," Snape said.

"Pocket," Harry muttered, his head now resting against the back of the chair, feeling the last few hours hit him all at once. He was prepared to tell Snape to get it himself, when Snape surprised him.

"Then take it, Potter."

Harry's eyes cracked open to look at the potion master. Snape was already sorting through the potions left, and unboxing the new ones Harry brought to him. He didn't spare Harry a single glance, as he started up the story where he left off, sarcastically answering any question asked of him. Harry waited several minutes, when he could successfully feel his arms once more, before reaching in his pocket, and taking one of the potions. He felt better instantly.

He listened to the story being shortened, and all the questions asked by the Order, many of them matching Harry's earlier queries. It took another hour, and Harry nearly falling asleep in the chair, before Riddle snapped the book shut. Harry, and several Order members jumped at the sudden sound.

"I believe I found the counter," Riddle announced, holding out his hand.

"Do you believe I lack the skill to cast it?" Snape asked without missing a beat.

"Do you know ancient Germanic dialects?"

There was a pause.

Snape pulled out the yew wand, and many in the room gave sharp gasps. The wand was passed to Riddle's open hand, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. Then, he pointed the wand over his shoulder, towards his own back, and whispered a handful of harsh, guttural sounds Harry wasn't sure were actually words.

A bright, butterscotch yellow spark flew from the tip, and landed on the center of the wound. Riddle hissed through clenched teeth, muscles in his throat tighten, and despite Harry's tired body, he sprung to his feet in alarm.

The wound sealed shut with a revolting squelch, the skin left unmarred, and the only signs any wound existed at all was the copious amount of dried, and fresh blood coating his back and sides. Riddle took heaving breaths, his mouth open, and his eyes screwed shut. This lasted for several seconds until Riddle steadied himself.

"Well," Harry said brightly. "At least now I don't have to fetch more potions."

Riddle collapsed, but this time, in joyous laughter.


	16. The Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Oh, do I have a gift for all of you in this chapter. We're getting into book seven territory now. If you have the time, please leave a comment. Thank you everyone who has reviewed! I respond to EVERY review that is not a guest, as I cannot message them back. If you have any questions, please feel free to send them.
> 
> Also, for those wondering about my original book I am working on… when I'm completed with this story, I will need Beta Readers, critique partners, and of course, I'll start doing Give-Aways, sneak peaks, etc… if you want to be part of this, please let me know by Private Message, reviewing here, or emailing me. Contact info is in my profile.
> 
> And now, onto the story!

Harry was led to the Gryffindor tower by McGonagall, who had barely spoken a word since barging into the Headmaster's office to find the man she'd come to duel laying across his desk bleeding heavily, and a surly potion master hovering over him, attempting to save his life. Harry wanted to ask her how she was, but her quick pace, and stern expression kept his words at bay. Instead, he worked on keeping up with her long strides, and hoped the Order wouldn't turn on Riddle.

Suddenly she turned into a dark alcove, and Harry stopped just outside, utterly confused. Her hand reached out, grabbed Harry by the shoulder, and pulled him in. She flicked her wand with her free hand, and Harry knew without hearing the spell that it was a silencing charm.

"Speak," McGonagall hissed, only her spectacles glinting in the torch light.

"What do you want to know?" asked Harry, feeling the fingers grip him tighter.

"When did you know? Did Dumbledore actually know all of this? How much did you know about this, Potter?" she asked hurriedly, her voice increasing in pitch as she went, and Harry winced.

"I found out last year, and yes, Dumbledore knew," Harry stayed utterly still under her fierce gaze. "Dumbledore knew all of it, and I just found out about…" –Harry gestured to his face, then realized she probably couldn't make out him either in the dark— "his appearance tonight."

There were a few seconds of silence between them, but that grip remained.

"Who else knew?" she demanded and Harry's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Hermione and Ron knew…" he answered, and even though McGonagall was still covered in shadows, he would picture her pursed lips. "I told them when I found out." –almost as an afterthought— "Snape found out only in March."

"Professor Snape, Potter," McGonagall murmured, but the grip finally loosened.

Harry fought the urge to rub at his shoulder and shuffle his feet. He had the distinct itch across his skin, that one gets when another person is staring at them. They stood in the dark for a few more moments, and Harry wondered if he should be saying more, but he honestly didn't have anything else to add to what Snape explained.

Then, he realized he had his own questions.

"Professor…" Harry began. "What are the Order going to do now?"

"That," She stepped out into the light of the corridor, significantly paler than when she left. "is a question we have to ask ourselves." –she narrowed her eyes impeccably like an angry cat— "I'll be sure to keep you informed."

Without another word, she swept up the stairs and continued towards the Gryffindor tower, and Harry was left rushing to keep up with the spritely woman in tartan robes. They quickly approached the Fat Lady's portrait, which was closed when they reached the top of the landing. Upon further inspection, her portrait appeared to be bare, only the great shawls and drapes, with the chair she often sat upon visible to them, but missing the subject. Harry looked around at the surrounding paintings, wondering if she was merely visiting a few, as she liked to do at this hour, before McGonagall's voice brought him back to attention.

"My lady, you can come out of hiding," McGonagall stated, her hands folded in front of her.

Harry and she waited, and sure enough, the black ringlet hair, and round eyes of the Fat lady peeked out from behind a pillar in her painting. Harry was starkly reminded of his third year when Sirius had attempted to enter the tower, and frightened her down three flights, to hide in another painting. He felt the sharp tug at his heart at the thought of his Godfather still.

"Is it true?" the Fat Lady whispered in a shaky tone.

"You'll have to elaborate," McGonagall replied.

"Is" –she glanced around in concern, seeing the corridor was empty of anyone else, then even quieter she said— " _You-Know-Who the Headmaster_?"

"Tom Riddle is our Headmaster," McGonagall answered swiftly, not bothering to whisper. Harry could hear murmurs from the darken corridors as other portraits conversed. "He is not Voldemort, but a man travelled from far away who happens to share similarities." –Her hands gripped tightly together— "Now, if you please, _Tapeworm_."

Given the correct password, and looking no less alarmed than before, the Fat Lady's portrait swung open to reveal the tunnel behind. McGonagall lead the way once more, and Harry quickly followed. He could hear the loud conversations, and two voices were familiar to Harry. Ron and Ginny were practically shouting at one another, neither waiting for the other to finish and instead were trying to be louder than the other. Several other Gryffindors were just watched the siblings argue back and forth, while Hermione, Neville, Dean, Katie, and Demelza surrounded the Weasleys, attempting to make peace between them.

They were all silenced when McGonagall's wand shot out several sparks that cracked like whips as they emerged.

"What is the meaning of this," McGonagall demanded standing between the two Weasleys. Her eyes went back and forth, before holding on Ron, who was still wearing his Prefect badge. "I do hope you have a rather good explanation, Mr. Weasley."

Ron opened his mouth, as though to shout once more, but hesitated. His eyes darted to Ginny, who had her arms folded tightly, and lips were twitching. He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumped.

"No, Professor," he said, reluctantly, and hung his head.

"Then, twenty points from Gryffindor for your behavior," McGonagall said, then turned to Ginny. "Anything to add, Miss. Weasley?"

"No Professor," she whispered.

"I expect better from both of you in the future," McGonagall added, and then to the rest of the common room. "Gryffindors, you are to come to the Great Hall for a school announcement, and dinner. I expect every one of you there," –her eyes went to Ginny— "No exceptions. Meet me within twenty minutes in the common room to be escorted, or face more point deductions."

With her orders given, she turned on her heel, and marched out of the tower. Harry's eyes trailed after her, wondering where she was going, and why. Before he could make any attempts to follow, arms surrounded him.

"HARRY!" Hermione practically shouted, and that got everyone's attention.

He was quickly surrounded by his fellow students, many of them patting him on the back, or asking questions. The only problem was everyone was talking at once which made the voices combine, sounding like white noise to Harry's ears. He was pushed and pulled around the crowd, Hermione losing her grip on him, and he climbed the study table to escape them.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" he shouted, and the room finally settled, as more than forty pairs of eyes looked up at him. "Good… er—so, a lot of your questions will be answered at the announcement." Several in the crowd shouted up at him, and Harry had to shout once more to silence them. When they were, a single voice rang out.

"Are we safe?" asked Lee Jordan.

Harry swallowed, and thought about it, as the room remained quiet, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah," Harry said with a sharp nod. "Yes, we are, but I can't say anything else." –before the crowd could argue— "We have only a few minutes to meet Professor McGonagall. I'll try to answer questions after."

Harry hopped down from the table, pushing past his fellow Gryffindors, and towards the Boy's Dormitory. He could hear footsteps echoing up the twisted staircase, following him, and hoped it was just Ron and Hermione. He barely made it half way into the room, when Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Ginny came in. Ginny was the last the enter and shut the door behind her, pulling out her wand and sealed it.

"What's—" Harry started tiredly but Ginny cut him off.

"Explain," she hissed, her wand pointing at Harry, and her eyes narrowed. Unlike McGonagall, Ginny would hex him, so Harry raised his hands up in surrender immediately.

Ron made a motion towards her, and she jinxed his legs together with a sharp jab of her wand. Ron pinwheeled in place, before falling face first onto the floorboards, groaning, and the other boys jumped back from the fierce red-head. Hermione pulled out her own wand, and unbounded Ron's legs, but made no attempt to disarm Ginny.

"I can't," Harry said, nervous about his own health, and about the gathering tears in Ginny's eyes. She shrugged Dean's hands away.

"Yes, you can," she demanded.

There was a pause.

"He's not the same person," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I swear to you Ginny, he's not. He didn't make the diary."

Ginny took in a sharp breath, her grip tightened on her wand, causing it to almost vibrate in her hand, and her shoulders jumped. No one moved in the room for several seconds. Then, without a word, Ginny unlocked the door, and stormed out of the dormitory, her robes billowing in her wake. Dean looked at the group, his eyes wide in surprise, then back to the door, before he ran after Ginny, the way Harry desperately wanted to.

"Well," Ron started, still on the floor. "That could have gone better."

Harry rubbed his eyes hard enough to see spots. When he opened his eyes once more, Hermione was shutting the door, and Ron was warily watching Harry.

"Are you two going to demand answers, too?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Of course not," Hermione said before Ron could speak. She moved quickly to Harry, her brows furrowed. "We want to see how you are."

"Yeah," Ron stiffly shrugged, still observing Harry like a dangerous animal. "You… all right?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but faltered when a sudden swell of emotion crashed over him as he realized they were the first people to ask if he was alright. Trembles began in his stomach, the skin fluttering, and his eyes prickled. He licked his lips, attempting to answer, but a croak came out instead of any words.

Before he could collapse under the weight of his exhaustion, Hermione's arms once again wrapped around him, and her voice whispered comforting words in his ear. Harry's arms hung loosely at his side, the quivering muscles refusing to move as all the stress hit him in waves, but he buried his head into Hermione's shoulder, surrounded by the soft lavender smell of her bushy hair filling his nose.

Then, Harry felt Ron join, giving his friends a hard squeeze. As though by instinct, all three of them gently swayed side to side, and though Harry was worried for what would come, he never felt such a deep warmth in his life, as his friends blocked the physical, and emotional chill that had settled in.

The Gryffindors were lead down the marble staircase and into the Great Hall by McGonagall. Hermione and Ron flanked Harry during the march down, and Harry was too tired to thank them. All the benches and tables were moved back into place, and the 'Dumbledore's Army' banner was removed from the hall. The house Ghosts were already in the hall, all floating together in a corner, whispering to each other. The Hufflepuffs were marching from down the corridor, where Harry knew the Hogwarts kitchens rested.

Harry saw the Slytherin table was already filled with students, and a very frightened, and awake, Draco Malfoy. He sat in the middle of the long table, his usual buffers of Crabbe and Goyle were missing, making him appear even smaller. He appeared to be confused, his brows furrowed, and his eyes darting around the room as it filled, eyeing the Halloween decorations that still hung around the room. Harry wondered if anyone explained to Draco how long he had been awake, but he spotted Alfie, who sat two students down, and made a mental note to ask Alfie to inquiry for him. Harry's head followed where Alfie was staring, to see the staff table filling up with members as well.

Snape and Riddle were standing near the center podium, both their heads together in deep conversation as the students filed in. Riddle did not have his glamour back on, which explained many of the girl student's quiet gasps when they caught sight of him. Riddle was wearing new formal midnight blue robes, delicately sewn with silver thread, and made it appear to glint in the firelight. His black hair with a white streak was combed back, showing his sharp face, and bloodshot eyes.

Harry was pushed forward, not realizing he had stopped. Ron's head whipped around, and barked something rude to the student who pushed Harry. Harry flushed and he quickly sat at the Gryffindor table, with Hermione following. Ron was still grumbling about seventh years as he took his seat on Harry's other side.

The Great Hall were eerily quiet, the only noise was the shuffling of students, and the scrapping of benches. Harry leaned, trying to catch a better glance at Draco, wondering when he woke up, and why now. He almost jumped when Nearly-Headless Nick popped up into his sight.

"Is it true?" asked Nick in quiet tones without any preamble, but nearly every surrounding student turned towards them.

"The announcement will answer your questions," Harry loudly said, glaring at a few of the eavesdroppers, before turning back to his table. He could feel the cold air as Nick hovered behind him, then the cold disappeared. From the corner of his eye, he could see Nick returning to the other three ghosts.

Once all the students were settled in, the teachers slowly took their places at the staff table. Hagrid, who was normally missing during meals, was sitting at the end, his great big hands clenching, and unclenching at the table. He sat stiffly, and when McGonagall went to pull out her chair, the noise caused him to jump up, his knees hitting the table, and rattling all the cups. Several of them spilled over, a few off the table, and Hagrid was staring wide eyed at Riddle, as though he caused the scene. McGonagall put a hand on his elbow, the highest she could reach on the half-giant, and calmed him down. Flitwick, and Slughorn worked to fix the table quickly.

Riddle waited until the students and staff were seated, before he looked up from the podium. Harry could practically feel the collective fear from the students. Riddle's head tilted delicately to the side as he considered them.

"By everyone's silence, I take it, rumor has spread what the name 'Tom Riddle' is associated with Lord Voldemort," Riddle began in a calm, silky voice. "Let's discuss what everyone wishes to know." –a pause, and then— "I come from another universe."

There were no words expressed by anyone in the hall, but the tension was there. Several students were grasping at each other for comfort, a few girls had tears rolling down their faces in silence, and Harry, who was too tired from the long day, felt numb.

"I came here by accident," Riddle continued when no one spoke. "I wanted to glance at another world, it was a decade long goal of mine, and as with any experiment, it went horrible wrong. I landed here, in Hogwarts, five years ago, during the first week of summer holiday. The at the time Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was…" –Riddle paused, his head tilting to the other side, and a rueful smile appearing on his thin lip— "understandably suspicious of my appearance. After many hours of conversation, we established what had occurred, that I had travelled from my own universe to this one. It was always our intention for me to leave this world without anyone knowing I came, since this is magic unlike anyone had ever seen, and had the potential to be exploited. When circumstances changed, and my counterpart emerged once more into power, Albus requested I come to the school to protect the students from Voldemort. With some hesitation, I agreed."

Riddle glanced down at his hands, which were folded on the podium, as though gathering his thoughts.

"I have no intention of allowing Voldemort to harm a single student of this school," he said quietly, but his voice carried through the hall as though he had shouted. "What you saw tonight was my line in the sand, as it were." –once more Riddle looked up, and there was a seriousness Harry had rarely seen upon it— "Any student of this school is under my protection, and I promise you, I will not hesitate to fight his army to defend this school, or anyone in it."

The hall seemed to take a collective breath, and hold it as he looked up once more.

"I am not Lord Voldemort," he announced, and lifted his chin. "I am Tom Riddle, and I am your Headmaster."

Harry didn't realize he was breathing quickly, until Hermione gripped his wrist. He shook slightly, and glanced to her. She shot out of her seat, and started applauding. Harry, and everyone looked at her as though she had gone mad, but she didn't pay anyone any attention, and kept applauding loudly. Ron, who appeared horrified on her other side, stood up when she kicked him. Ron started clapping too, but his face was rapidly turning as red as his hair.

Harry took a breath, then stood on top of his seat, and clapped hard enough that his hands were stinging from the contact, but did not stop. He turned when he heard two others join. It was Neville and Luna. Soon, other members of the D.A. started joining, slowly at first, then more, and more, until eventually most of the hall were on their feet, clapping, and cheering.

Riddle stayed still at the podium, glancing around the room with furrowed brows, and his lips slightly parted. His red eyes fell to Harry, who grinned, and nodded towards him, clapping even harder. Riddle's mouth slowly closed, and he swallowed thickly, before raising his hands to calm the crowd.

It took nearly a minute to get everyone seated once more, and silent.

"Thank you," Riddle stammered, looking down, and coughing slightly into his hand. "It will be a honor serving as your Headmaster, and I hope my… appearance does not put any of you off your dinner," –a few scattered chuckles rang out through the hall, and Riddle smiled— "And before I forget, Happy Halloween."

With a single clap of Riddle's hands, the food appeared on the tables, and the feast began.

Unlike other years, the conversation was quieter, the air not nearly as warm, and Harry struggled to stay awake long enough to finish a decent bit of dinner before having to trod back up the stairs into the tower. Ron and Hermione stayed with him until he all but collapsed into his bed, exhausted, and fell fast asleep with his robes still on, his glasses skewed on the side table, and the Pepper-up potion vial still in his pocket.

Harry was jerked awake by a pair of small hands violently shaking his shoulder. Still groggy from sleep, and the room being dark despite the half-moon outside the arched windows, all Harry could make out was a blob of grey kneeling on his bed, and what looked to be two very large eyes. Harry jumped back, tangling himself in his curtains, and ready to shout, when he heard the unmistakable croaky voice of Dobby.

"Mister Potter sir!" Dobby proclaimed as though he were the one surprised. "Oh, Dobby heard you was in trouble."

"Wha— er," Harry breathed, his heart still thumping against his chest from the sudden awakening, and subsequent fright. "What are you talking about?"

Dobby settled down next to Harry, and Harry pulled on his glasses. He could now make out the house elf better, his huge batlike ears dwarfing the bobbling head which housed two eyes that appeared to glow against the moonlight. Dobby was still wearing a hideous jumper, and Harry made out lumps of yarn on top of his head, which were probably Hermione's cozy hats she knitted last year.

"What are you talking about?" whispered Harry, mindful of the other sleeping students. Ron let out a particularly loud snore.

"In the kitchens, we hears lots," Dobby started, fretting at his hands. "And Kreacher says Master Potter is in danger, so Dobby cornered him, and asked him what he meant because Mister Potter is safe in Hogwarts. Kreacher laughed sir! He says Master Potter was going to be killed by You-Know-Who tonight! So, Dobby came straight away to warn Harry Potter, sir!"

Dobby was now standing, and Harry had to hush him so he didn't wake anyone. Harry pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm over his curtains, before turning back to Dobby.

"Voldemort did attack tonight, but he ran off," Harry explained tiredly.

"Harry Potter scared off You-Know-Who?" Dobby's voice as pitched high, his eyes widen.

"No, not me," Harry hurriedly corrected as he didn't need Dobby thinking he was even more of a hero. "The Headmaster scared him off."

"Headmaster Riddle?" Dobby stood up, clapping his hands excitedly.

"So, you heard his real name announcement at the feast?" asked Harry, wondering why Dobby was so worried when he clearly heard what was happening.

"Announcement? No, Harry Potter sir," Dobby shook his head. "Headmaster Riddle's name was revealed to the house-elves when he accepted the post. All house-elves must know who their master is, sir, but Headmaster Riddle asked house-elves to only call him 'Thomason' until he spoke his true name to the school." –Dobby stood tall on Harry's bed, his chest puffed out slightly— "Dobby was not under enchantments, so Dobby could say Headmaster Riddle's name before tonight but Dobby is noble and agreed to not say it."

Despite being tired, and worn, Harry felt a smile tugging on his lips at the display.

"You are noble, Dobby," Harry said, patting Dobby's boney shoulder. "Was there anything else?"

"Oh, yes," Dobby became animated once more, his shoulders tensing, " _Kreacher_."

"What about him?"

"He says terrible things about Harry Potter," Dobby said, almost spitting in anger. "Dobby tells him Harry Potter is good, but Kreacher is upset about his old master's locket, and won't stop saying awful things about Harry Potter, sir! But, Dobby makes Kreacher clean floors when he says bad things."

"Well, I" –Harry froze as the word hit him, and his gut wrenched— "A locket?"

"Yes, sir," Dobby answered.

"Kreacher!" Harry barked, and with a loud pop, Kreacher appeared on the bed in front of Harry, looking as though he was asleep moments before. Kreacher's large nose wrinkled at the sight of Harry. "Kreacher, Dobby said you were talking about a locket."

"Kreacher said nothing to filthy mudblood loving house-elf," Kreacher responded in his bullfrog voice, his eyes narrowing at Dobby even as he bowed to Harry.

"Don't lie to me Kreacher and don't ever call anyone a mudblood again," Harry said sternly, watching Kreacher's mouth move, most likely cursing his new order. "What locket?"

"The stolen locket," Kreacher said, his eyes crossed, as though watching his mouth move in its own.

Harry sat back against the headboard of his bed, crossing his arms, and watching the two house-elves. He had a nagging feeling about the locket, remembering Riddle was looking for one as well that he could not locate, and Kreacher had been upset about a locket being missing, but that would be in…

"Did someone nick Sirius's things?" asked Harry, his nostrils already flaring in anger.

"Yes," Kreacher hissed, then quickly, "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all; Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and – and –"

Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream.

"— _and the locket, Master Regulus's locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"_

Harry reacted instinctively, as Kreacher went over to bash his head into the bed post, Harry flattened him with his own body. He held tightly onto Kreacher's skinny arms, which thrashed around, and Harry caught a sharp elbow into his chest.

"KREACHER I ORDER YOU TO STAY STILL!" Harry bellowed, and the tiny body froze under him, and Harry released him. Kreacher lay flat on the bed, sinking slightly into the blankets, and muttering as tears dribbled out of his eyes. Harry looked over at Dobby whose large eyes were going between Harry and the sobbing elf on the bed.

"Harry Potter sir?" Dobby inquired softly.

"Kreacher," Harry said, and the house-elf's eyes turned to him but his body was still frozen in place. "Tell me everything you know about this locket."

Kreacher told Harry everything through sobs, about how Regulus had offered Kreacher to Voldemort when he requested one. The cave in the middle of nowhere, and the awful things done in it to protect a locket. Regulus's horror at what had occurred, and then his sacrifice to retrieve the locket from the cave, with Kreacher's help, and his death. Dobby and Harry listened to the tale, Harry could feel Dobby's little hand tighten on Harry's robes while listening, and Harry felt ill the whole time. Kreacher had attempted to punish himself twice on the bedpost when the cushioning of the bed was too soft to cause harm, and Harry was forced to stop him.

He ruefully thought next time Hermione asked him to knit some hats, he would assist.

When the tale was completed, there was only one thing Harry could say.

"Kreacher," Harry started as nicely as he could but still knew this was an order. "I want you to do something for me… when you feel up to it… find Mundungus. I want to finish what Master Regulus started," -and Kreacher looked up like Harry, nodding, and getting to his feet— "Bring him to er— the…"

"The shrieking shack is empty, Harry Potter sir," Dobby offered.

"The shrieking shack," Harry said with a nod. "And make sure he stays there until I can get to him." –and then inspired—"Dobby, will you go with him?"

"Dobby would be happy to help Harry Potter!" Dobby announced at once, springing to his own feet.

"Good, both of you then," Harry said.

Kreacher gave a shaky bow to Harry, and Dobby shook Harry's hand. Both house-elves disapparated out of the room, leaving Harry alone once more in his bed, and horribly awake after only a scant few hours of sleep. Harry flopped back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Light from the morning sun was barely peaking in, and he rolled over, put his glasses back on his table, and hoped he could fit in another hour before having to face any more revelations.

Harry was left to sleep in and was awoken by Ron, who brought in some toast, and stolen pumpkin juice from breakfast. Harry still felt tired and could feel his hair sticking up on one side, but Ron didn't even laugh at the sight, just handed Harry what he got for him.

"Morning," Harry said, then started nibbling at his toast.

"Morning," Ron repeated, sitting on his own bed across from Harry. "Breakfast was interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Riddle still looks all…" Ron shuddered. Then, suddenly, "Is that how he _actually_ looks?"

"Yeah."

"Blimey," Ron looked down at his feet, and shuffled a bit as Harry drank his juice. "It's strange, you know?"

"What is?" asked Harry, but he had a feeling he knew what Ron was talking about.

"When we found out who Riddle was, it was easy believing he was really a good guy, when he looked so different from You-Know-Who," Ron confessed. "It's just now, he looks…"

"Like Voldemort," Harry finished, setting aside his food, as he lost his appetite.

"I mean," Ron started quickly, holding up his hands. "I know he's _not,_ you know? But, it's just… harder now. What with the red eyes, and everything."

"I get it Ron."

"Well, good," Ron said, standing up. He wiped his palms against his robes, then sat next to Harry. "Everyone's acting all… normal, like nothing's happened. I thought maybe I was going mental."

"How's Ginny?"

"Haven't seen her," Ron's brows furrowed. "Come to think of it… she wasn't at the announcement either."

Harry and Ron stared at one another, and they knew something was wrong. Harry quickly got changed, didn't bother brushing his teeth, and they raced out of the tower to look for Ginny. When they met up with Hermione in the corridor, they implored her assistance as well, who then suggested they get a few groups together to search. They were lucky it was the weekend, or else they may have gone to classes, and not have noticed her absence until much later. Harry cursed that he didn't get the marauder's map back from Umbridge's office, and Harry didn't know where it was now. He hadn't even thought of getting it back until now.

Harry and Ron split up to cover more ground, Ron going towards the Quidditch pitch in case she was out flying, and Harry was heading towards McGonagall's office to ask for her help, when Harry skidded to a stop. In a flash, he knew exactly where Ginny would be hiding. A place where no one would come looking for her, she could hide for hours, and it's a place where her problems started.

Harry walked to the girl's bathroom on the second floor.

Ginny was standing, facing a mirror when he entered, her eyes puffy, and shadowed from not sleeping. Harry still thought she looked beautiful.

"Don't you know you're not allowed in the girl's bathroom?" Ginny said ruefully, turning to face Harry.

"I came to find you," Harry shrugged. "I'm willing to risk points to do it."

Ginny chuckled, but it was tired, and soft, done out of instinct more than finding anything funny. She crossed her arms, and her brown eyes narrowed at him.

"How can you stand to be around him?" she asked with a hiss, and Harry didn't need to ask who that person was.

"Ginny, he's not Voldemort," Harry argued in exasperation.

"No," Ginny agreed, then, "He's Tom Riddle."

Harry felt his throat constrict, the image of Ginny's pale body lying in the Charmer of Secrets so clear to him, and bile climbed his throat at the thought. To Ginny, the only person worse than Voldemort was Tom Riddle. The evil that crept into her life with thoughtful phrases, and well placed words of encouragement.

"He's obsessed with you," Ginny whispered, her lips trembling. "Riddle. He's enchanted the house. Moody made a comment on it during summer. Never skipped a single weekend at breakfast, did he?"

"He's just trying to protect me," but even to Harry that sounded weak.

"Is that what he tells you?" she asked coldly, but didn't wait for a response. "He lies. It's something he's terribly good at. I would know."

"He does," Harry took a deep breath, pressed his back against the tile wall, and slowly lowered himself to the stone floor of the girl's bathroom, and waited. For all of Ginny's anger, she slowly slides down next to him, and he fought the urge to comfort her. She looked so small, with her knees pulled up, and her freckled arms wrapped around them.

"Why do you trust him?" she asked.

"Because I need to," Harry answered honestly.

"What if it turns out, everything is one big lie?" her voice quiet. "What if, it's all a trick?"

Harry paused.

"Then I'll have you," he stared down at his shoes, but could feel the heat of her gaze at the side of his head, making his ears warm, and his chest flutter. "And… Hermione, Ron, the Order… I'll have friends to help me, if the worst happens, I think."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, both sitting an inch apart, and refusing to look at one another. The air between them grew arm, and Ginny's hand slowly came over to fold into Harry's. They both watched as their fingers laced together, and they squeezed hard.

"I probably won't ever trust him," Ginny said with a tired voice. "Even if he's not…"

"I know," Harry said, squeezing her hand once more.

They sat together on the floor until the shuffling of students grew faint, the afternoon birds sung just outside the windows, and their stomachs rumbled for the lunch that was surely waiting for them. Then, they sat for a little longer, Ginny resting her head against Harry's shoulder, lightly snoring. Harry only had the heart to wake her when the torches lit once more, and the owls were just starting on their evening hunt. Then, together, they walked to the Great Hall for dinner, their hands never letting go.


	17. Malfoy Manor

The street was dark except for the spots of light coming from lampposts in the distance. The homes that lined either side of the lane were quiet and still. The night had long settled in and even the moon that was barely a sliver could not reflect a glow strong enough to pierce the looming hedges near the end of the lane.

A sudden crack echoed out, and a figure appeared in black robes, holding a wand firmly in his right hand. His head turned as though expecting someone but no one was near. Instead of moving on, he stood still, hand never wavered, and head turned slightly as if listening.

When no one presented themselves, the man continued down the lane, past the houses and paved road towards a row of large hedges. The man walked briskly down a wide driveway that led off the lane. As he approached a tall gate made of iron appeared from the shadows not seen from the road. Its finely crafted gate was closed, and in the middle, was a decorated letter _M_ woven into the bars. The man did not reach for the gate, but lifted his wand high in the air in a kind of salute, pressed forward without halting towards the closed gate when two larger figures appeared behind him.

"Don't move a muscle," growled the larger of the two new figures. His large hands with dirty fingernails closely resembling claws, grasped the man's neck, the tips sinking into flesh enough to bruise but luckily the nails did not penetrate skin. The man stilled his movement.

"I'd've never thought ter see the day," the smaller figure chuckled darkly, a wand in his hands. "Can ya imagine, Greyback? Bein' thick 'nough ter come 'ere?"

"Let's see what reward I can get for this," Greyback said, his voice deep as though growling through his words, and blocking any answer the man could have given.

"Oi, I spotted 'im first," squawked the smaller man, puffing up his chest. "So, I gets ter do the annoucin'."

"I've actually got ahold of him," to emphasize he squeezed harder on the man's neck, and shook him a bit. "And, I smelled him before you could see anything."

"If you are done measuring wands," drawled the man. "I have a report to give."

"Oh?" Asked the smaller man with a falsely surprised tone. "Ya 'ear that? He's got 'imself a report!" He narrowed his eyes, and a cruel smile spread across his lips. "Ain't that a shame. Hard ter do reports when ya—"

They didn't find out what would make that report hard as a new figure cloaked in fine velvet appeared as though moving through a fog. The gate never opened, yet the figure marched up to the trio, never breaking stride, and passed through the iron gate as though it were smoke.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here," hissed a female voice from beneath the cloak. The man did not look surprised, but Greyback and his partner were. Greyback's partner gave an awkward nod as though attempting a poor imitation of a bow. Greyback's nose curled.

"We're just bringing him," –Greyback gave a slight shake to the man he was holding—"into the manor for questioning."

"Go back to your patrols," sneered the woman, looking down at them from her nose. "I shall bring him to the Dark Lord."

"You cannot order us," growled Greyback in threat. A wand darted up into his face, causing Greyback to stumble back, releasing his grip on the man in his haste.

"Be grateful I am more merciful than the Dark Lord, mangy dogs," the woman hissed with a voice filled with distain.

Greyback clenched his hands into fists, and his partner had to practically drag him away, muttering about not getting into a fight he couldn't win. The two werewolves eventually slunk off down the lane, and disappeared between the looming hedges, and into the dark shadows, leaving the man and woman alone at the iron gate.

"I came to provide my report," answered the man steadily.

"You are a traitor," the voice lashed out, a twisted wand that matched the nature of its owner, was pointing at the man's throat.

"That is a serious accusation, Bellatrix," despite the words, the man's tone implied boredom. He straightened his collar, and dark eyes went to the female form still shrouded in darkness.

"Everyone knows it," Bellatrix stated, taking a step towards the man. Her wild hair spilled off to one side, her hallowed eyes wide, and shining with glee. Her lips spread to display her stained teeth, an unpleasant sight. "And when I present you to the Dark Lord, he'll be grateful to give you the punishment you deserve for all your years of disloyalty, Severus!"

Severus Snape's lips thinned but if he were unnerved by the cackling woman, or the other person in the hedge, he did not show it. His eyes bore into Bellatrix, and he gave a look that would make many of his students cower.

"Perhaps no one should make any assumptions for the Dark Lord," Snape said, causing Bellatrix to sneer. "For only he knows what he will find deserving or undeserving."

"You can't possibly expect him to welcome you," She spat, closing the gap between them, and pointing her wand directly under Snape's chin. "After all you've done!"

"I'd wonder what it is you think I've done, if this report wasn't urgent for our Lord," Snape batted her wand away, unbothered that it returned immediately. He continued his way, causing Bellatrix to stumble after him, her face thunderous.

"You will halt!" She roared at him, grabbing his bicep to stop him. Snape let out a sigh loud enough to hear.

"How foolish," Snape said, and before Bellatrix could utter another word, he continued. "Think Bellatrix! If you are correct and I am this traitor, delaying me to the Dark Lord will only harm your capture, and if I am not, then you are delaying a report that Dark Lord requested. Either way, halting me is a mark against you."

Bellatrix's mouth shut with a click, and her nose wrinkled with rage. Her nails dug into Snape's arm but he did not flinch. Without another word, Bellatrix raised her wand as they continued through the iron gate, and approached the manor beyond it. No words were shared between them, the only sound was the crunching of gravel beneath their feet.

Malfoy Manor was a grand house, with rare birds, and artistic bushes scattered about the yard. The flagrant appearance of wealth was abundant in every statue, tree, and stone. The gold leafing, most likely older than any of the occupants in the manor, adorned the great double entry doors. Bellatrix shoved them open, and they hit the walls with a bang, most likely damaging the walls inside.

Past the grand staircase and to the left was the dining room. Despite the warming air outside, a roaring fire was kept in the hearth, and the light was dancing around the room off the many paintings. The great table in the middle housed several men and women, all with dark robes with matching hoods. The masks they wore, skull like and featureless, were unnerving as they all turned towards the two new arrivals. The only ones not turning were the four without hoods.

Narcissa Malfoy sat ramrod straight in her chair, chin tilted higher than her sons, and at Snape's bowed position, he could see her hand linked with Draco beneath the table, out of sight. Draco, ashen, trembling in his seat, and lips pinched such as though to prevent being sick, had just arrived from Hogwarts not two hours ago, fresh from the Hospital Wing. Lucius was absent from the meeting, as he was still in St. Mungos after the battle at Hogwarts.

The figure at the far end of the table was difficult to make out at first, with the roaring fire behind him, only allowing the two entering to see his silhouette. A round head, without any hood, or mask, but his skin was nearly white, and his eyes, larger than normal, stared.

"I've brought him, my Lord," Bellatrix said breathlessly, bowing deeply.

" _Ah_ , Severus," high, cold voice rang out. Snape bowed respectfully. There was a stillness in the room, as though no one breathed, and only sound was the crackling fire. Snape remained bowed, and Bellatrix took the silence to mean for her to continue.

"The _fool_ came alone, My Lord, to the gate, where I, "—but she was cut off.

"Leave us."

"My Lord?" Questioned Bellatrix, who flinched back, knowing she had spoken out of turn when the piercing red eyes met her own. The other members who had already moved to stand, froze. Narcissa Malfoy took a sharp breath, but unlike the rest who froze, she tugged her family from the room immediately, never giving a backwards glance to her sister who now was under the piercing gaze of the Dark Lord. Draco ducked his head, and followed his mother.

"Do you question me, Bellatrix?" Asked Lord Voldemort almost in a curious tone.

"N-No my Lord! Never would I question you," Bellatrix stammered, another bow made. "I was merely hoping if you were to torture this traitor, I could be present to witness your power."

Voldemort's head tilted to the side, as though considering the offer. His pitiless eyes bore into the woman for a few moments.

"My power?" Voldemort said quietly, as though to himself his long fingers dancing across his yew wand, and eyes, curious, on the tip. "Is that your wish, Bella?'

"To witness, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded, breathless, her hand clenching tightly at Snape's arm in her desperate plea towards her master. "There is no higher pleasure."

Voldemort's eyes moved to the dark figure of Snape, who remained in his bowed position, and then over to the many figures still in the room, all frozen in place. Voldemort watched them squirm, and sweat, waiting for a word to dismiss, or halt them. After a minute, he finally broke the tension.

"Traitor," the Dark Lord whispered almost to himself, though there was little doubt the many robed figures heard with ears straining. Voldemort lips parted in neither smile nor frown, the red of his eyes on his own wand that dangled between unnaturally long fingers. "Could it be true, that a loyal servant of Lord Voldemort would betray his trust?"

Snape did not speak, nor did anyone else in the room. Bellatrix's mad eyes were wide, her body bent towards Voldemort as though pulled towards him by invisible string, her breasts heaving against the crude bodice.

"Who are you loyal to, Severus?" inquired the Dark Lord casually.

"You, and only you, my lord," Snape answered at once.

"Look at me when I speak," he commanded, and Snape obeyed readily.

Snape could not make out all the features of Voldemort, as much of his figure was hidden by the burst of fire in the hearth, but the red eyes gleamed out from the chair at the head of the grand table. The pitiless red gazed unblinkingly at dark brown, which held unwavering. There were no words, for there was no need for such things between two masters of occlumency. If the invasion of his mind were a dreadful thing, Snape did not give any indication, his expression blank, and body still bowed in devotion. Red blinked first.

"I shall not ask again," Voldemort's gaze narrowed, his voice severe. "Leave us."

The cloaked figures hastily bowed, and retreated like rats into the shadows of the manor. Bellatrix released her hold on Snape's arm, gave the deepest bow of any follower, and turned to leave, a carefully blank expression on her face.

"Bella," Voldemort murmured. She snapped straight, and pivoted towards him. "Do not return unless I call for you."

"U-understood, my lord," she answered, then left as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Voldemort waited until the last person left, before casually flicking his wand, and the doors leading into the dining room closed. He stood slowly, each footstep measured, and deliberate, as he approached the bowing figure of Severus Snape.

"You have brought news?" He questioned without preamble.

"Yes, my lord," Snape said at once.

"Good enough to prevent my wrath upon you for any misdeeds, Severus?" Questioned Voldemort, his wand held loosely between his fingers, but the threat was unmistakable.

"Only you could judge, my lord."

The Dark Lord studied the man, the yew wand twirling, and he circled Snape like a vulture homing in on its meal. His head tilted in a manner perfected by serpents, and his slits for nostrils flared out momentarily. Then, he smiled.

"What news have you brought Lord Voldemort?" The Dark Lord whispered close to the potion master's ear.

"I know a way to weaken that fraud who calls himself Headmaster of Hogwarts, my lord," Snape's tone was even, and his head tilted further down, as though baring his neck for the predator lurking around him.

"You claim a weakness?" The long fingers ceased to twirl the wand, instead it was held between the fore and middle fingers, but still loose for now.

"In _him_ I do, yes, my lord."

A loud pop was heard from the crackling fire but neither man paid it any attention. Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his face considering the man in front of him, who didn't dare more a muscle without instruction. The yew wand was twirled once more.

"Come Severus," the dark lord turned and sat at the head of the table. His hand stretched out towards the chair on his right. "Let us discuss your news."

"Thank you, my lord," Severus Snape stood straight, and took the chair he was offered as the crackling in the fire grew louder as the night dimmed.


	18. Lady In Pink

 

The chill of the fall wind crept silently through the stones and into the dorms late into the night. Harry shivered under his cover, curing a hand tightly into the scarlet comforter, wrapping it around his shoulders. Ron's snores came to his ears in a rhythmic patterned through his curtains, and soothed his heart with its familiarity. In the distance, an owl screeched as it most likely dove for prey hidden amongst the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry pinched his eyes closed, tucking his nose into his pillow, hoping to warm himself. Even during winter, it was rare the caste itself would grow so cold. Usually the house elves kept the fires stoked through the night, and the lingering heat kept the worst of the cold at bay. Tonight, however, it seemed the cold could not be kept away.

Images came to Harry uninvited. Dumbledore's lifeless body falling to the ground in the Ministry like a swan in all his silvered robes fluttering. Sirius's still smiling face, his eyes growing vacant as his body bent gracefully into the archway, never to come back out. Harry's heart thundered in his chest as a bubble of air rose through his throat, threatening to release as a sob. He quickly tucked his face further into his pillow, stifling it. Then, with a prickling sensation worming its way from his scar, a flash.

A skull white face standing in front of a mirror. Pitiless red eyes stared back, with slit nostrils flaring. The tip of a yew wand pointed towards vision, as a ripple of dark silver light came from it, dispersing across the mirror surface like a stone skipping water. The image took a few moments to settle back, and the same face appeared in it, but it may have been a trick of the light, but the high cheeks seemed to have a bit of a red hue to them.

As though aware of the sudden intrusion, thin lips parted in a sneer.

" _My Lord_?" called a voice, low, and strong.

Voldemort's head tilted, his eyes focusing on the dark shape in the corner of the mirror. Dark hair hung like two curtains on either side of their face, shrouding it in darkness, but the end of his nose stuck out into the light.

As the figure moved forward, Harry was jerked suddenly and completely back into his own head, gasping for breath. Harry barely made it to the toilet before throwing up.

The morning did little to improve Harry's mood. He woke up late and covered in sweat from a dream he couldn't remember, by Neville. Neville had come back into the room for his plant that was quickly growing far too large to be kept at his bedside table, when he noticed Harry's curtains still drawn from the night before.

Both boys quickly made their way down to the Great Hall, Harry barely dressed, tossing a hand through his unruly hair in hopes that he didn't looked like he just rolled out of bed. He shouldn't have even bothered, as not a single person looked up when he entered.

Tom Riddle was standing at the staff's table, his head bent towards Snape's, and both appeared to be quickly chatting to one another. Harry felt his stomach threaten to make him sick again at the sight of the large nosed Professor, his quick vision coming back to him. As though sensing Harry's eyes on him, Snape's dark gaze moved towards him, and Harry fought to stand still. It was only a moment, but Harry didn't breathe until the eyes were lifted from him, and he practically ran over to the Gryffindor table.

He didn't eat much that morning.

Classes were still on hold for the rest of the week, which worked out well for Harry as he could barely keep his focus on one thing. He occasionally heard students gripping in the halls about Quidditch being cancelled until further notice, and on the notice boards was a large list of things currently forbidden. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken most issue with the rule not to go out on the Hogwarts grounds for any reason, as they were not able to visit Hagrid anymore.

The only upside to all the changes was Slughorn, who had dogged Harry most of the year to join his club, had remained scarce, only showing up for morning breakfast before disappearing. Harry thought that large professor would have run off, but it seems despite the Headmaster, or because of it, Hogwarts was still the safest place in all of Britain.

Unlike the potion's professor, Riddle was quickly making himself more available to the students of Hogwarts. Harry had seen him roaming the halls on several occasions, answering student's questions, and usually doing a bit of harmless magic in front of them. He once produced a rabbit the size of a Great Dane, which bounded down the halls, thumping furry paws against the stone as it went.

Filch tried to swat at it with a broom, which only caused it to hop over his head, and kept bouncing down the halls. Before it could collide with a set of armor, Riddle snapped his fingers, and the rabbit froze in mid-hop. Within a second, it exploded into small glowing orbs the size of fireflies, which circled, zoomed, and fizzled into the air until they too were gone.

It was the first time in weeks Harry heard laughter echoing down the halls from the students, and a pressure he wasn't even aware of, lifted from his chest. Despite the moment of reprieve, Harry still felt the cold coming in from the winter through the stones, and had a tingling in the back of his head, as though he should be running from something, but every time he turned around, nothing was there.

It became worse on the following Saturday, when the students were milling about in groups around the halls, Mrs. Norris was prowling with a particularly irritated gait, and the torches blazed a little hotter. Harry was walking down to the kitchens, wondering if any of the other house elves heard news from Kreacher or Dobby since it had been almost a fortnight they went on their mission, and his friends were chatting about something to do with the Weasley shop. Without warning, Harry's scar seared in pain, and Harry grasped the wall to steady himself.

The shouting of his friends echoed distantly as though they were at the end of a very long tunnel, and his vision blurred, narrowed, then finally, black.

Harry woke up on his back, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his scar throbbing. His arm felt heavy as he swung it up to rub against the ache, and instead of reaching all the way up, he lost his strength, and his hand fell hard into his own chest. That hand was quickly taken by another, cool hand Harry couldn't recognize right away, so he pried his eyes open.

A blurry face, pale, and moving as though speaking bobbed into his sight, but Harry couldn't make them out, nor could he hear them. Instead, a distant hissing with drifts of what could be words, clogged his mind. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on making sense of the words, but the more he tried, the further they escaped him, and the more insistent the hand grabbing his own became.

This time when he opened his eyes, his glasses were put back into place, and the room started to sharpen. It started with the person in front of him first. He could make out their straight nose, then their lightly pinked lips, eyes, and soon their tightly bound hair.

Professor McGonagall was speaking again, but this time her eyes darted to the side. Harry frowned, first confused why she was hovering over him, then why he was on his back, and finally, who she was speaking to. He turned his head to see Riddle, his own hands clasped tightly, and his nostrils flaring. His lips did not move, but he made sharp nods, or jerky shakes as the questions continued.

Green met red, and Riddle's nostrils flared as he took a large breath. The ache in his scar eased and the world sharpened.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's voice drifted in as the usually stern woman leaned in, her hand sweeping the hair from Harry's eyes almost unconsciously. "We really would appreciate if you kept the dramatics further spaced."

"'m sorry," Harry muttered, embarrassed.

"Well, we can hardly blame you, given everything," McGonagall continued. She glanced around as though just aware there may be an audience, before standing up quickly. "I'll inform Miss. Granger, and Mr. Weasley."

She lingered a few moments, her hand curling in Harry's direction, then towards Riddle. Her lips pinched, then she hurried towards the double doors. McGonagall briefly paused by Madam Pomfrey's office, where the old matron was sorting through her things, most likely to prod Harry within a few minutes, or awful potions for him to swallow.

Harry watched McGonagall's robes disappear from the hospital ward. He half-expected Riddle to follow, but instead, the older man took a seat next to the bed with a heavy sigh. Harry observed Riddle as he fidgeted with some of the potion bottles on the side table, arranging them in size in a delay. Harry spotted the necklace with the black stoned ring amongst the bottles, his fingers reactively flexed over his chest where it usually laid. Harry hadn't taken it off since it was given to him, and now he felt oddly naked without its weight.

"You don't have to stay," Harry said, though that's not what he wanted.

"I know," Riddle took another deep breath, before slowly exhaling. His shattered red eyes gazed just over Harry's shoulder, and making no move to leave.

Madam Pomfrey made her way over to them, holding a simple pink potion, and a stern expression. She handed it to Harry, who was slow to take it, and waved her wand over him, muttering a spell.

"Well, you seem to be rather exhausted, but none the worse," she commented, as though unbelieving. Her sharp gaze went to Riddle. "I'll not have you keep him up long, no matter who you are."

"I couldn't agree more, Madam," Riddle answered smoothly. Pomfrey's eyes narrowed further.

She made Harry sit up, checked his pulse, a few other things Harry wasn't sure what she was looking for, then declared he needed rest. She stood beside him as he took a dreamless sleeping potion, before cleaning up the side table of empty bottles, and disappeared back into her office.

Silence passed between them, as though they had an unspoken agreement to wait for Pomfrey to be out of hearing distance. There was only one other person in the Hospital Ward, a first year who had terrible splotches on their face, most likely from a potion gone wrong, or some of the nastier plants Professor Sprout kept in the back of the greenhouse. Either way, they were fast asleep, and Harry felt his eyes grow heavier.

"He's rather agitated these days, isn't he?"

Harry didn't have to ask who.

"He's trying to do something in a mirror," Harry responded, his voice weaker than before. "He keeps trying some spell. Do you think he's trying to get it to show him something?"

"A mirror?" Riddle murmured, rubbing his bottom lip. "Perhaps, but there is a vast amount of magics that require or use a mirror. I'm afraid that doesn't narrow it down by much. I shall investigate, but, I know you cannot gain access to Hogwarts or harm someone through a mirror."

Harry nodded. He honestly hadn't thought of Voldemort using the mirror to harm someone. It felt more personal, like he was trying to change something in the view. He remembered something in a book as a child about seeing visions through water, or mirrors. The thought of Voldemort being able to watch him through such means made Harry shudder.

"Can he… watch someone through it?" Harry asked.

"Like scrying?" Riddle's eyebrows rose slightly. Harry didn't know what that word meant, but nodded. "Only a few people are capable of the craft, and none have been found in nearly a hundred years."

"Could _he_ do it?"

"No," Riddle firmly answered. "It's something you must be born with the ability to do, and we lack that particular skill."

Harry's eyelids stay closed longer, and longer as he blinked. Riddle stayed with him until he could no longer open his eyes. The last thing Harry saw was Riddle picking up the necklace, and tugging at the knot in the leather.

Harry sprung awake at the sound of a board of wood cracking in half, and a weight on his chest. Just as quickly two bright pops of light came out from Harry's left, lifting the weight, and formed two large bubbles that faintly glowed, just over Harry's head with a small figure in each. Harry scrambled for his glasses, and wand, his heart pounding, when he heard a squeaky voice ring out.

"Mr. Potter, sir! Mr. Riddle!"

" _Dobby_?" asked Harry, nearly jumping again when a hand grabbed at him. His head turned to see Riddle, holding his wand out, and his hair unnaturally rumpled. "They're not threats."

Riddle's eyes, wide, and struggling to focus like he just awoke, darted to the two house-elves in the bubbles, then back to Harry. Dobby was on his knees inside the bubble, his tiny hands trying to steady himself like a hamster in a ball, while Kreacher muttered what was sure to be curses, as he slid around, his large bat like ears flapping uselessly.

Riddle took a deep breath, and tipped his wand down, allowing the bubbles to rest near the foot of the hospital bed, before dissolving. Kreacher was already bowing, while Dobby straightened his tea cozy hats.

"Dobby and Kreacher didn't mean to frighten. We was coming with important news," Dobby explained, stepping in front of the bowing Kreacher, who sneered, and attempted to swipe at Dobby's ankles.

"Kreacher has the thief tied up," Kreacher stated, his bullfrog voice nearly echoing in the wing, making Harry looked around for a certain matron to come in at any moment.

"Dobby was the one who spotted him, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," Dobby proclaimed, once more pushing Kreacher aside. "Kreacher kept losing the thief but Dobby would find him again."

"Kreacher apologizes for the delay in bringing the thief, Master," croaked the elf. "Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices."

"Fletcher?" whispered Riddle to himself as Harry rose from bed, pulling on his dressing gown.

"You've done really well. Both of you," said Harry, and both elves bowed low. Harry felt the weight of his necklace, and his hand went to it, wondering how Riddle managed to get it on him.

"Pause for just a moment," Riddle now standing, his face turning between the elves and Harry in confusion. "What is going on?"

"We're going to find out where one of Voldemort's horcruxes went to," answered Harry.

"Oh."

"You two," Harry said, both perking up. "Can you disapparate us to the shack?"

"Of course, Dobby and Kreacher can," Dobby exclaimed, his hand wrapping around Harry's before Kreacher could, and Kreacher shuffled over to Riddle, grasping his sleeve. Before Riddle could ask another question, the sensation of being pulled, and his head being squeezed occurred.

Harry nearly stumbled when they reappeared. He heard Kreacher and Riddle appear behind him, as Fletcher paused in trying to unbind himself from the numerous ropes tying him to a large armchair. Harry instantly pulled out his wand, pointing it at the thief's face, making him cross-eyed to keep watch at the tip which was the only light besides the moon peaking in from the broken windows.

"Right, I've got questions for you," Harry told Mundungus, who shouted at once.

"I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em! I swears!" Mundungus scooted as far as the ropes would allow, his baggy, bloodshot eyes still on Harry's wand. "The goblets 'ave been gone for months!"

"This isn't about the goblets. When you stripped everything of value from Sirius's house," Harry began, but Mundungus interrupted him again.

"Sirius never cared about any of the junk – "

There was the sound of pattering feet, a blaze of rusted copper, an echoing clang, and a shriek of agony: Kreacher had taken a run at Mundungus and hit him over the head with a pan he found somewhere in the junk piles of the Shrieking Shack. It took Harry barking an order to get Kreacher to stop, who was still holding the pan over his shoulder, ready to smack Mundungus if he dared insult his old mistress's things.

"When you stripped the house of all the valuable you could find," Harry began again, "you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there."

"Is it valuable?" asked Mundungus.

Harry was ready to shake the man in front of him, his mouth dry, and head still feeling light from the dreamless potion. His scar throbbed once, and Harry saw Mundungus's eyes go from his wand, up, and over Harry's shoulder where the air grew warm as Riddle stepped forward. Harry didn't need to look over to imagine what Mundungus was seeing in the pale moon light.

"You're going to tell us what you did with the locket, or I will persuade you," Riddle hissed out, and Harry thought it might have been a bit much, since Mundungus promptly fainted.

Harry and Riddle quickly agreed that Harry would ask again, and Riddle would just stay in sight as a reminder. Riddle had offered to glamour himself once more, to remove the scarlet eyes, and skull like features, but Harry declined. He didn't want Riddle to hide himself again, especially for the sake of scum like Mundungus.

It took two minutes to wake Mundungus, five minutes to calm him down enough that Harry wasn't worried about him fainting again, and then another to get the story of a Ministry worker nearly busting him for selling stolen goods in Diagon Alley, until she took a liking to the locket he had.

"Bleedin' gave it away! No choice," he finished, his eyes still darting out into the dark to where Riddle stood, then back.

"Who was this woman?" asked Harry.

"I dunno, some Ministry hag."

Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled. "Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head." A deeper frown, then. "Looked like a toad. Dressed all in pink."

"Dolores," Riddle hissed, causing Mundungus to flinch, and let out a small yelp. Riddle took two large steps, crossing the room, and entering the light, his face was the picture of fury. He pulled out his wand, and tapped it against Mundungus's temple. "It's best he doesn't remember any of this," he nearly whispered, his wand pulling glowing bits of silver from the thief's head, and allowing it to disperse into the air.

"What did you just do?" asked Harry, still in shock from Mundungus's story.

"Pulled the memory from the last hour from his mind," Riddle answered, turning to Dobby, who's big eyes were going between the two. "Dobby, if you would be kind enough to drop Mr. Fetcher where you found him?"

"Dobby can, Mr. Riddle," answered the elf. He slowly walked forward, his eyes went to Harry as though asking for permission. Harry nodded, and with a great noise like a strike of lightening, Dobby, and Mundungus were gone.

"I fear this all became a tad bit more complicated…" Riddle began, the anger seeping from him as soon as Mundungus disappeared. He ran a hand through his hair. "Though, it's not impossible."

"We broke into the Ministry once already," Harry shrugged, his mind already racing with thoughts on how best to corner Umbridge. It would figure, thought Harry, that awful woman would be the one to find the locket. His eyes went to Riddle, wondering how he felt about Umbridge wearing a piece of his soul, and almost made himself sick.

"We don't strike the Ministry, that's far too risky, and would take too long to plan," Riddle began to smile unpleasantly. "All the past and present teachers are registered with their residence. I could pay her a visit."

"After Halloween, it may be a terrible idea for you to leave Hogwarts," Harry argued instantly, his heart already racing with thinking about the school being defenseless. Then, his eyes darted to Kreacher, still clutching the pan, waiting for an order or dismissal. He wondered if Kreacher could apparate them in and out of Umbridge's house as well.

"I wouldn't be gone during the day, Harry," he explained, though took a deep sigh after. "You may be correctly assuming Voldemort has people watching for me leaving, even for a short period of time. We will have to plan accordingly— "

A crack, and Dobby reappeared in the shack, looking rather proud of himself.

"Dobby placed the thief Fletcher in an alley way, Sirs, with fire whiskey," he gleefully told them. "That way, thief Fletcher won't know the real reason for the memory loss."

"Dobby," Harry began with a big smile on his face at the delighted house elf. "You're a genius."

It then took a few minutes for Dobby to calm down from being complimented by Harry, but once that was done, Harry could feel his eyelids drooping now that Mundungus was taken care of. He honestly couldn't wait for Hermione and Ron to come to the Hospital wing in the morning so Harry could tell them everything.

He was rather surprised on their return that Madam Pomfrey wasn't prowling the ward. Riddle explained he placed a silencing charm around the area since Snape had come with news, and it had lingered until well after Riddle nodded off. He also explained that it was too late for visitors, otherwise Hermione and Ron would have been there as well.

"Why were you allowed to stay?" asked Harry, remembering during his first year when Dumbledore was pushed out of the ward.

"Because I am your guardian," Riddle answer, almost shyly.

"Oh," was all Harry to say.

Harry was quickly tucked back into bed, Dobby and Kreacher returned to the Hogwarts kitchens with praise from both Harry and Riddle. The Headmaster, meanwhile, settled himself back into the chair at the bedside, tucking his chin to his chest, ready to fall asleep as well. Harry wanted to tell him to go to his actual bed, but was too tired to argue. Instead, he fell asleep once more with Riddle sitting watch over him.

The various images of flying on his broom, playing an odd game of Quidditch with giant pasties instead of Quaffles, slowly faded away in Harry's dream. Instead, it was replaced with an imagine of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was once again in front of a mirror, his eyes narrowed, and lip curled in displeasure as his wand danced over the surface once more. A ripple, and then a dark shadow reached out around Voldemort's head, wrapped around his face, blocking everything from sight, and just as quickly it vanished.

Red eyes searched his reflection but, nothing had changed. Voldemort curled his long fingers into a fist, and shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces.

Harry was brought back to himself by Ron's hands shaking him awake, and Hermione's cool hand on his forehead.

"You awake?" asked Ron, his freckles sticking out against his skin.

Harry sat up, nearly knocking his chin into Ron's forehead, and spotted the empty chair at his bedside. He had the sudden urge to go looking for Riddle, to tell him about his dream, to ask why he was having them so frequent, when Hermione's face came in front of his.

"Harry?" her brows pinched, and her face was full of worry. "You were yelling in your sleep."

"Yea," Harry answered, his throat feeling dry, but the instant panic upon waking was slowly fading into a slight buzz in the back of his mind, though his heart was still racing. "Where's Riddle?"

"He left about half an hour ago," Ron answered. "Said he'd be back soon. Want me to go get him?"

"No," Harry forced himself to take deep breaths. "No, it's fine. I have things to tell you two about."

Harry relayed the story of his night back to them, including Riddle's thoughts on how to get the locket back from Umbridge.

"Well, that makes sense," Ron shrugged. "It'll be easier to take the locket when it's just her. We don't have to go stomping around the whole bloody Ministry looking for her, and have to find a way to grab it from around her neck."

"Do you think she'll have security at her house?" Hermione asked, chewing on her thumbnail. "I mean, she had all those detecting charms on her office. She's sure to have normal security, but I wonder if she has Aurors patrol as well."

"I'm sure she does," Ron said darkly. "After all, she's still on their payroll. Thinks herself so important, too."

Harry sat back in his bed, and listened to Ron and Hermione try to plan to break into Umbridge's house. The lingering rage from his connection to Voldemort swirled in his gut, and stayed with Harry, even when the throbbing from his scar faded to a dull ache. Harry knew these visions would continue, and would become worse now that Riddle was exposed. Not to mention, Voldemort was planning something, Harry could feel it in his gut, and whatever it was, Hogwarts would be the most likely target.

As far as everyone was concerned, Harry was staying safe inside of the school, protected by Riddle, and the other Professors. Even the Ministry couldn't guard Harry better than Hogwarts, and that was no small feat. It was perhaps the only time that Voldemort would focus his efforts elsewhere, in places where it didn't take a year of planning for a single chance at Harry. And then, a thought hit Harry.

_He had to leave Hogwarts and find the horcruxes_.

The more Harry focused on this thought, the more it made sense to him. Riddle and he were the only ones who understood Voldemort enough to find his horcruxes, and Riddle couldn't leave Hogwarts, not with the Dark Lord waiting to strike at the barest sign of weakness. No, Hogwarts needed him to protect the students, but Harry could leave. He couldn't concentrate on school, and he certainly wasn't going to be fainting in classes again like in his fourth year. He had enough of being pointed at or whispered about.

"Harry?" asked Hermione cautiously.

"I think," Harry began slowly. "It's time I left Hogwarts."

His friends passed a look between them.

"I sort of figured you'd be saying that pretty soon," Ron said with a rueful smile.

"I'm glad I kept my books packed away," Hermione was nodding, giving that faraway look she often had when she was mentally calculating. "I'll have to turn in all my exam papers so far. That way when I come back I can pick up mid-year."

"Wait—" Harry began but Ron cut him off.

"I'm pretty sure I flunked potion's this year anyways. It'll be for the best that I retake it later," Ron was smiling.

"Hey!" Harry shouted, feeling angry at being ignored, but his friends were smiling at him as though unaware of how he felt. "I have to do this alone. I can't ask you both to drop everything for this."

"Yes, you can," Ron answered, standing up. "We're coming with you even if we have to hex you."

"Harry," Hermione began, patting his hand. "We're in this together. We always have been. You'd do the same for us, and we have our own reasons for wanting to help you. Let us do this."

Harry held Hermione's hand, squeezing it, and looked up at Ron, who stood tall, and sure.

"Yea," Harry responded. "Thanks."

"No problem, mate," Ron smiled. "But, we got to wait until after Christmas or my mom will have kittens."

Harry laughed, his mood finally picking up, remembering that there was still some happiness in this world waiting for him, and something simple like giving gifts to look forward to. He oddly hoped Mrs. Weasley will have knitted Riddle a sweater this year, and have hot chocolate once more before leaving to hunt down Voldemort's horcruxes.


	19. Back to the Room of Requirement

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed huddled together the rest of the day, even when they weren't planning. Harry would often catch himself just staring at his friends, grateful they were still at his side. Their presence had temporarily made Harry forget there was another person important to Harry who wasn't around.

"Didn't Riddle say he would be back?" Harry asked suddenly, and his friends frowned.

"He did say that," Ron answered, with a shrug. "But, he probably got caught up by the Order."

"Oh, we didn't say," Hermione rushed, keeping her voice down, and eyeing the passing second years. She nudged Harry and Ron closer to the wall before continuing. "The Order came by this morning, along with a few Aurors close to Kingsley -don't worry they aren't planning on harming Riddle- and they are here with news."

"What sort of news?"

"Wouldn't tell us, would they?" Ron ruefully said. "It's not like we have taken down Death Eaters, and fought in the Ministry. Then, they'd have to treat us like adults."

"I'm sure they mean well," though Hermione didn't sound convinced.

"If they Order's here, then we'll have to plan somewhere they won't find us," Harry's mind was already racing, thinking of the possible locations. He could only imagine how McGonagall would react if she found out what the trio was planning to do, or Mrs. Weasley. She would find a way to drag all three of them through school by their ears. "What about the shack?"

"It's too risky," Hermione shook her head. "We'd need to take the tunnel there, and back every night, and you still haven't gotten your cloak back from Riddle."

"I'd almost forgotten about that," Ron said, and Harry had to agree. He had forgotten as well.

"The room of requirement?" Harry suggested.

"That's a great idea," Hermione exclaimed, startling a third year passing by. Hermione flushed, and hid her face behind her mitten hands until the third year scampered off.

"It's settled," Ron nodded. "We'll meet in the room tomorrow for planning."

"We should invite Riddle," Harry suggested, and at the incredulous looks from his friends, "He's the only one who will know what each Horcrux is, and where to find them. Not to mention, he's not part of the Order, and he will probably tell us what they are planning."

"If we can find out what they're doing, we may find a way to ask about the Ministry, and what protections Umbridge has on her house," Hermione smiled. "It's the sort of break we need."

"I'll send him an invite with Hedwig. She's been taking letters back and forth for weeks without anyone knowing," Harry said, already thinking of what he wanted to say in his letter.

They all agreed, and continued to the tower, trying their best to not look like they were up to something, which for them, wasn't easy.

The next morning dragged quietly, with groups of students staying together through their walks. Harry was reminded of birds flocking together, their heads bobbing around as though danger lurked around every corner, and seldom would a student break off, even for bathroom breaks. The Slytherins stayed towards the dungeons, rarely roaming up near the marble staircase unless it was for class. Even Alfie was sticking close to his group, his eyes darting to Harry, and his mouth pinching, as though wanting to say something before returning to his housemates. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw students stuck to bigger groups, sometimes mixing with each other, or traveling with Gryffindor students. The Gryffindors were the only ones who stuck to smaller groups. A few of the bolder fifth years would boast about their skills, and Harry wondered how they had the time for anything, since studying took up most of his time last year.

The tension in the school wasn't regulated solely to the students. Professor Slughorn, who normally appeared quite jolly, and tried to make those students he thought well connected like him, snapped at Blaise Zabini for a simple error. Ron's potion looked worse, but Harry had tipped the crushed beans into Ron's caldron making it closer to the shade of orange described in the book. Ron had almost collapsed in gratitude, and Hermione pointedly looked in the other direction, though she didn't mention it after class. Harry took that was a win.

McGonagall marched up the down the rows between students during transfiguration, her arched brows knitted the whole class. Harry could barely make himself concentrate as his mind was buzzing with ideas of where he would have to search for horcruxes, and their meeting later tonight.

"Potter," she snapped.

Harry jumped in his seat, his toes meeting the table leg making him wince.

"Is there a particular reason you think this lesson does not pertain to you?" McGonagall's hands were knuckle white, clenching to each other but her face was oddly calm. Harry wanted to shuffle the parchment off his desk with the list of the known or possible horcruxes he had been making into his bag, but knew it would give him away.

"Sorry Professor," Harry muttered, feeling the many pairs of eyes, all staring at him.

Her lips pinched for a moment, and she leaned towards him. Before Harry could do anything, her eyes spotted the parchment. Harry could see her eyes skimming the list, reading it upside down.

Professor McGonagall slowly straightened, her eyes had an odd sheen to them, and her lips were pinched. Harry had the distinct feeling in his gut like she wanted to yell at him, but had to be professional. Instead, she sharply pulled the book he was supposed to be reading out from under his elbow, flipped it to the page, and all but slammed it down on his desk.

"I expect you to stay on task as long as you remain a student," she said, then turned on her heel, and continued her lesson.

She didn't make eye contact with Harry for the rest of class.

When classes were done for the day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stowed away into the room of requirement to plan. The only difference between their planning every year for whatever danger they usually faced, and this year was, they had a guest.

"I hope I am not too late," Riddle came in with a small smile, and his hands behind his back. "I just received your letter as your owl cleverly waited for the last member of the order to leave my office before delivering it."

"Glad you could attend," Harry responded, beaming.

"We're actually just getting started," Hermione announced, spreading a parchment across the table. Four heavy coins appeared, and without hesitation, Hermione used each one to hold down the corners of the parchment. Harry was still amazed at how well she used the room. He added his list, placing it beside the Hermione's scroll. She smoothed it out for everyone to see:

_Diary – Destroyed second year_

_Ring – Destroyed_

_Ravenclaw_

_Hufflepuff_

_Gryffindor(?)_

_Slytherin – Locket_

_Snake - Nagini_

With all the horcruxes listed, Hermione stood at the head of the table, a quill and ink well next to her. Ron and Harry stood close together, both craning their necks to read the small writing, while Riddle stood across from them.

"We've got a lot to discuss," she began.

Riddle's head tilted to the side, reading Hermione's handwriting.

"You can cross off Gryffindor," he whispered. "The only thing I wanted was the sword but it wouldn't become a horcrux even if I got my hands on it." His lips thinned slightly. "It's goblin made."

"Do you have a problem with goblins?" Hermione asked sharply.

"In my youth I found they foolish," Riddle confessed, then shook his head slightly. "But, I do know better than that now. I merely find it distasteful the possible history for a wizard to own a goblin sword. It most likely wasn't under the most pleasant of circumstances."

The room was silent for a few moments as everyone realized what that most likely meant. Even with the boring Professor Binns, the ghost history teacher, Harry knew the goblins and wizards had a sorted past. He remembered one lesson talking about a war, long ago, between the two, and wondered if the sword was made prior to the war. If goblins and wizards weren't always enemies.

"Harry's told us you wanted to catch Umbridge at her house," Hermione said, picking up the quill and scratching out 'Gryffindor' from the list. "We were worried about Ministry protections placed on her residence, and possible Aurors."

"Ah, that had occurred to me as well," Riddle nodded. "With my appearance into the Ministry's eye, the best Aurors will be protecting the Ministry, and the Muggle Prime Minister, of that I can assure you. They will see threats from two sides, and resources will fade quickly if they think attacks will come from me as well."

"Why would they think you're going to attack them?" Harry questioned before his brain caught up with his mouth. His mouth shut with an audible click. Riddle's shattered red eyes stared back at him for a moment, and Harry's scar prickled, as though reminding him exactly why the Ministry would consider Riddle a threat.

"I may not frighten you three," Riddle's eyes drifting to the parchment. "But, there are many who see me as merely another Voldemort. Or, a trick. Either way, I am a threat to the Ministry but one it can't afford to go in open war with. Not when the public is frightened enough as it stands."

"I'm more surprised students haven't left the school," Ron said with a shrug. "You'd think what with what happened earlier this year more than half the school would be gone by now."

"They would be normally," Riddle started slowly, his fingers drumming on the table lightly next to the burnt item that sat at the edge. "However, the  _Daily Prophet_  have nary a mention of my coming out, as it were."

There were a few seconds of silence in the room. Then, Ron blurted out, "You've got to be joking me."

"He's right," Hermione spoke up, and all the eyes turned to her. "I've read the  _Prophet_  every morning to see how they were going to handle this, and they haven't mentioned Riddle's admission, or what he looks like now. They've only commented that a minor incident occurred, and the Ministry has secured the school."

"You've known, and you haven't said a word," Ron's voice pitched high, turning to look between Harry and Hermione, his mouth agape. Then, his brows knitted, an accusatory look on his face. "Harry, did you know?"

"Why would you think I know anything in the Prophet when I stopped reading it since school?" Harry snipped, and Ron ducked his head, muttering an apology.

"We've got bigger things to worry about than the Prophet," Hermione said.

"She's right," Riddle affirmed, nodding towards her. "I've had someone investigating Umbridge's home already, and it appears my suspicions are true. She doesn't have any Aurors protecting her home, but she does have a series of very complex alarms, and protections."

"You have someone watching her home?" Harry questioned, watching a small smirk appear on Riddle's face. "Who's that?"

"Well, I admit I rather shamelessly stole your idea, if you pardon," Riddle was looking particularly pleased with himself. "I have Dobby watching her house for us, and testing out areas of entry. No one thinks to block a house elf from their home, why would they?"

Hermione's expression was serious, and Harry remembered starkly her opinion on how wizards treated house elves. Ron, however, was grinning.

"That's brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Can he just steal the locket? I bet that toad wouldn't expect it."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped in anger. "We can't order Dobby to steal something for us! Not only is it wrong of us to ask that of a friend, but if he's caught, he would be killed for it!"

"Oh," Ron answered soberly, his shoulders shrinking. He licked his lips, and his brows knitted before he turned to Hermione. "I didn't mean it like that, you know?"

Hermione, still puffed up from anger, took a few breaths. She didn't say anything but she gave a sharp nod, and her eyes fell to the map they had laid out. Riddle and Harry looked at each other over the table, both silently begging the other to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

Riddle cleared his throat.

"Well, on that note, I have an idea," Riddle began. "Umbridge will be home during holiday for Christmas. I won't be expected at Hogwarts during that time, and I can pop over there for a few minutes," his eyes turned to Hermione. "with the asked assistance of Dobby or Kreacher of course" then back to the rest of the table. "I can disappearate near her home, take the locket, and leave within a few minutes. Since I'll be leaving directly from Hogwarts and returning, none would be the wiser."

"That sounds like a decent plan to me," Harry said, but felt like a cold stone was dropped into his stomach. He hadn't realized Riddle would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, but it made sense. Even with only a few students left to defend, Riddle would have to stay.

"I'll cross the locket off the list then," Hermione said, putting a line through the list of horcruxes they suspected of existing. "That just leaves three."

"Something of Ravenclaw's, and something of Hufflepuff's," Riddle confirmed with a nod. "Then Nagini, his snake."

"Do we know what those items would be?" Ron asked.

"For Ravenclaw, most likely the diadem," Riddle let a small sigh, his expression pinched, then continued. "I had convinced Helena to tell me it's location, and had collected it in my own life. It was my second attempt that went so poorly."

"Who's Helena?" Harry and Ron asked at the same time.

"The Gray Lady, Ravenclaw's house ghost," Riddle answered. "She was the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. They had a complicated relationship, which lead Helena to steal the diadem. She hid it in a forest where I retrieved it from in my universe. Voldemort would have done the same, I imagine."

Harry had to force himself to relax his hands as they had clenched through Riddle's story. It was still difficult to hear how similar Riddle and Voldemort behaved in some ways. As though hearing Harry's thoughts, Riddle looked up at him, a small smile on his face, and gentleness in his eyes that would never appear on the skull like face of Voldemort.

Something eased in Harry's chest.

"Do you have any idea where Voldemort would have hidden it?" asked Hermione, already making notes.

"I have some thoughts, but I think I will share them next time," Riddle held up his hands when all three of them turned to protest. "It is not that I want to keep anything hidden from any of you. I just don't want to mislead any of you."

"Do we have a lead on Hufflepuff, then?" asked Hermione, being practical.

"It would be her cup," Riddle answered immediately. "For its location, that I do not have either."

"Do you think Voldemort would have given them to his followers?" asked Harry, his mind already running through his second year at Hogwarts, and all the trouble he had with the diary. "He gave one to Malfoy."

Riddle paused, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"It's possible," he started slowly. "Though, we now have the problem of wondering which of those demented fools he gave one of them to. I certainly would trust only two items out, as providing three would be too risky."

"So, it's possibly one more horcrux with a Death Eater," Hermione murmured, placing the new information on the list. "We should start there."

They spent the rest of the evening going over possible Death Eaters, but they didn't narrow it down. To Harry, it seemed it could be any of his most loyal, but that list would be what made up the Death Eaters before Voldemort's first fall from power. Hermione had thought up to ask the room for a book on the wizarding families, and compared them to the notes on the war. Before they knew it, they had a list in the hundreds as they couldn't strike anyone off that had died after Voldemort fell. He could have easily have given them one of the horcruxes.

"It seems like we're at an impasse until we get more information on the families closest to Voldemort," Riddle said, rubbing his chin in thought. "We shall have to reconvene here tomorrow night."

"There is one more thing we have to talk about," Hermione said, slowly, and looking over at Harry.

Harry stared at her in confusion, wondering why she was looking so intense at him, until it dawned on him the whole reason why they had to meet in the room of requirements. The Order.

"Oh," Harry said, louder than intended. "We were wondering what the Order was visiting here for."

"Ah," Riddle said, looking down. "I cannot reveal why they are here at Hogwarts, but I can say they don't plan on trying to evict me, if you're worried."

Harry hadn't thought they could, honestly, but it was good to know. He felt a smile pulling at his own lips.

"Do they know what we're looking for?" asked Hermione.

"Only your three know about the horcruxes," Riddle answered sternly. "If Voldemort even caught a whiff of what we're planning, this whole thing would be impossible. Despite my trust in the Order Albus put together, I would not trust them with this information."

"Even Snape?" Harry asked suddenly.

Riddle paused, his head tilting, and his shattered red eyes connecting to Harry's for a third time this evening.

"I trust Severus," Riddle said sincerely. "His reasons are deeply personal and go far beyond whatever you think you know about him, but he is truly trustworthy, of this I swear."

Harry wanted to argue, to demand to know why Riddle would trust him. The vision of seeing Snape call Voldemort Lord was not something easily washed from his mind. Harry knew logically that Snape was a spy, and had to be by Voldemort at times, but the Professor's actions this year had left Harry wanting. He couldn't put together the image of the dark, nasty Professor who insulted Harry for breathing, with a man who could be trusted with secrets to bring down the Dark Lord he had once served.

As though sensing the battle inside Harry, Ron put a hand on Harry's back. They exchanged looks, Ron was never a fan of Snape either. Harry strangely felt better knowing there was someone out there who didn't like the git any more than Harry did.

"Get back to the tower before it becomes too late," Riddle said. "I shall see you three back here tomorrow at the same time."

Harry had returned to his bed that night with his head spinning with the names of the Death Eaters who could possess a horcrux. There were simply too many to narrow it down. Then, he thought of Snape, and immediately regretted it as he felt the old resentment for the ex-potion teacher swirl in his gut. He felt a disconnected anger that was not his own like a distant echo. Possibly triggered by Harry's own darker thoughts, Voldemort's anger from hundreds of miles away, wormed through Harry.

Tried, and drained from a full day of school, Harry pinched his eyes closed, and willed away his connected. He tossed his arm over his forehead to put pressure on his scar as it ached like an old wound, and he fell into a restless sleep minutes later.

When morning came, he and Ron strolled down to the Great Hall, both trading ideas through their yawns. Neither were surprised to see Hermione with a stack of books surrounding her as she ate. Harry was itching to ask her if she found anything yet, but knew she would confine in them when she had something.

Instead, he waited patiently through breakfast, tapping his fingers on the desk, and through their first class. Then their second, and yet they still weren't any closer to finding out how to narrow down the list of possible suspects.

It wasn't until Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry was struck with a moment of brilliance, or perhaps madness, given who was the teacher. For a second, Harry thought perhaps Voldemort may have given an object to Snape to guard, having been a Death Eater before. Then, he remembered that Snape would have told Dumbledore something.

If he wasn't a real spy for Dumbledore, he may have kept that secret hidden, whispered a dark voice in the back of Harry's mind. Harry stared at Snape, who had his back to him busy correcting a student's wand movements on their jinx, hoping for a solution.

"You look real serious," Ron joked, nudging Harry back into the present.

"Do you think Snape would be able to find out who has the items?" Harry whispered, his eyes tracking the defense teacher as he slunk around the room.

"You think that's a good idea?" asked Ron, dropping his wand, no longer pretending to practice. "I know Dumbledore trusted him, but…" Ron glanced at the Professor. "he's Snape."

Harry nodded, understanding what Ron meant. Through his years at Hogwarts, Harry had learned there were a few constancies in life at school. The first was Professor Binns bored him nearly to tears, second that it always felt like home when he saw the spiraling towers, and third, that Snape hated Harry the most out of every student. That alone would cause anyone to pause.

But, Dumbledore and Riddle trust Snape.

"Potter, Weasley," Snape's voice cracked like a whip, snapping Harry to attention. "I do not see your wands moving."

"Sorry Professor," they both muttered, before going back to practicing. Snape eyed them for a few moments longer, then moved on to continue circling the class like a vulture.

It wasn't long until the class bell rang. Harry lingered behind his classmates, Ron away as he attempted to hang back with Harry. Ron opened his mouth as though to protest, but gave his best 'good luck' expression before leaving along with the shuffle of students trying desperately to shove their books into their bags while walking to their next class.

Harry waited until the last student left before approaching the desk at the front of the room, where Snape was facing the chalk board, flipping through several notes as though preparing for the next lesson.

"If you did not understand the lesson," Snape voice pitched slowly as though bored. "I can provide extra work."

"It wasn't the lesson," Harry said, already clenching a hand, and reminding himself that he needed Snape for this. "I have a request."

Without looking at Harry, he walked casually around his desk, snapped his fingers, and several papers flew to their respective desks. Harry felt a few brushes near him, but they did not collide with him. Instead, they moved like air, curving around, before landing softly on the wood.

"How sensitive is this request?" Snape inquired.

" _Very_."

Snape paused for a moment, considering, then with a flick of his ebony wand, the door to the classroom shut, and Harry heard the familiar spell being muttered to silence the room from listeners. Snape's dark eyes peered at him, a scowl already threatening to tug at his expression, as he studied Harry.

"You have one minute," said Snape.

Harry took a breath.

"I need you to find out information from some Death Eaters," Harry said quickly, fearing he wouldn't have time to explain everything, yet, knew he couldn't explain too much. "Voldemo-"

" _Don't_ ," hissed Snape, his right-hand twitching towards his forearm. Harry was tempted to say it once more, just to prove a point, but bit his tongue.

" _You-know-who_ ," Harry stressed, and annoyed. "He gave something to one of them. Something precious, and I need to find out who has it."

"The Dark Lord has given out many gifts to his followers over the years," Snape began slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. Harry thought the defense teacher was denying his request but then he continued. "Is there something that puts this item above the rest?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, scrambling for details that wouldn't give away the item's true nature. "He gave a similar item to Malfoy before his fall. It would only be given to his most trusted, and they would be told to keep it safe… I imagine protect it with their lives, kind of protection." Then he thought about how careless Malfoy seemed to be with the diary. "Or just told to keep it safe without being told its true value, just that it was valuable." Almost as an afterthought. "It would belong to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, most likely."

There were several seconds of silence between them.

"What is this object, really?" Snape inquired.

Harry felt his mouth dry.

"I can't tell you."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry felt the dismissal ready on the professor's tongue. He knew Snape risked his life with any request or attempt at information gathering, that much was clear from his conversation with Riddle, but Harry needed Snape to trust him. Something that never truly existed between the two.

"Please," Harry asked, and instantly knew it was the wrong thing. Snape leaned in close, their noses almost touching.

"Don't mistake me for our headmaster,  _Potter_ ," his voice low, angry. "I do not obey your commands."

Harry opened his mouth, anger boiling quickly in his chest, and just as fast he shut it. His teeth clenched together, feeling like he was trying to hold back a raging river. He promised Riddle he was going to handle this, and if the past was anything to go by, he knew spouting off angry words at the defense teacher was only going to get him tossed from the room.

Instead, he took a deep breath, exhaled. Then spoke.

"I'm only asking because it's important to defeat You-Know-Who, and I was sworn to not speak it to anyone," Harry reasoned, feeling immensely proud his voice didn't shake with the anger he was feeling. "And I trust you."

Snape barked out a laugh, something low, and cruel. "Even without occlumency, I know you're lying, Potter."

"I don't  _like_ you," Harry rushed, knowing his minute was nearly up. "But, Dumbledore trusted you, Riddle trusts you, and… I want to trust you as well. That's why I'm asking."

There was a pause. Snape peered down at Harry from his large nose, his eyes slightly narrow, and Harry was surprised that he didn't feel the prickle of someone invading his thoughts. Instead, they merely held each other's gaze.

"Your minute is up," Snape said, pointing a finger to the door.

Harry scanned his face, hoping for an answer, but he found nothing. His shoulders slumped as he grabbed his heavy bag, threw it over his shoulder, and left. When Ron caught up with him, Harry didn't have to say anything for Ron to know his plea failed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment and/or Kudos


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